


From the Journal of Severus Snape

by jessicadamien



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicadamien/pseuds/jessicadamien
Summary: A look at Severus Snape's most innermost thoughts.





	1. I've Always Been a Fan of Quidditch

Chapter 1  
I’ve Always Been a Fan of Quidditch

1st, September

I have nothing to do, this first evening following the first day of the new school year, and as always, it seems wrong. I must keep busy; I must write something. So, here I sit, quill in hand, needing essays to grade, yet none ready for my red ink because I’ve only just assigned the first essay this morning. In a moment of weakness, I’d allowed them three days in which to finish it. Was I to have nothing to do until then?

That’s inconceivable. Such is the reason I’m writing this now; I have never been able to just sit and do _nothing_. I have nothing new to read, and the old tomes have begun to bore me. And since it would not do to allow Albus to figure out I have nothing to do, I will write. Even writing random thoughts are a better exercise than being idle. The headmaster has a nasty way of coming up with the strangest ideas to keep his staff from becoming bored.

The schedule I’d prepared over the summer holiday is flawless; nothing to change there. I have no one I care to correspond with, and so my hand twitches around the grip I have on the quill. I’ve thrown away two parchments already; my restless hand had started doodling. Such a thing is beneath me, and I was angry with myself as I crumpled the evidence of my errant thoughts. The doodles were too obviously related to my most recent obsession, and I have no patience with myself for my juvenile mental wanderings. I lack the artistic skills necessary to render a decent likeness of her profile, anyway.

But I will permit my mind to meander once again over the summer just passed. I had sought to do something different; that’s the only reason I could fathom to have caused me to buy the ticket for the Quidditch World Cup. Appalled at the prices, I opted for one of the less expensive seats. I really hadn’t wanted a better seat, anyway. To have seated myself in the Top Box would have meant playing nice with the Malfoys. I hadn’t known it at the time, but the Weasleys and their large brood were up there as well.

Still, I felt horribly out of place when I first Apparated to the site. So many wizards and witches were milling about in this festive atmosphere where everyone greeted everyone else with hearty pats on backs, wide grins, and sincere well wishes for one and all. Since I was alone, and no one would have even pretended to greet me in such a way, I felt uncomfortable. It only pointed out how very alone I was. How very alone I have always been.

I wandered about, heading for where I knew my seat to be, when I caught sight of the laughing green eyes of the newest member of staff at Hogwarts. She’d only come to us last month, and already, she’d been causing me no end of consternation.

Olivia seemed not to care a fig about rules and regulations; she clearly had no sense of decorum. She was like a child let loose to play, with no concept of repercussions, nor penalties. I’d kept a close eye on her, at once being intrigued at her devil-may-care attitude toward the world around her, but also dismayed at her failure to conform to the norms of society that the rest of us embraced.

I had been won over once and for all, though, when Minerva’s hair had thickened to the point of absurdity. She could no longer confine it to the priggish bun she’d always worn, and it had lately become a mass of curly ringlets that framed her face. She was clearly beside herself with trying to tame it, the style being more suited to a young witch of twenty with no pride, than a stern deputy headmistress of eighty. Gone was the grey, and the reddish-brown curls would no longer allow Minerva to wear her hat, either.

Olivia had been the only one not to comment to Minerva about it, and neither had she ever suggested any charms that might remedy the situation. She had studiously avoided Minerva’s eyes as the elder witch fussed with her hair, but she hadn’t been able to hide from me the sparkle lighting her own eyes.

She’d attacked Madam Pince in the same manner, more or less. The librarian’s hair was frizzed so wildly that it looked as though she’d been Transfigured into a dandelion, and her face now looked as though she shared make-up tips with Coco the Clown. She was more likely to hide herself behind books whenever someone entered the library nowadays, at least until she could get herself looking the way she normally did.

Poppy Pomfrey was still at her wits’ end, as she had been unable to reorganize her stores and files, once they’d been set askew. She’d found out the hard way that the bedpans in the infirmary would forcefully cast out whatever was put into them.

Clearly, this newest member of staff was anarchy on the hoof.

Realizing Olivia was targeting those of us who seemed too straight-laced, too anal retentive in our lives, in her opinion, I began to suspect I would be her next target. I had a few nightmares about what someone like Olivia could do to my personage or my well-compartmented lab before I had decided I would attend the World Cup, if only to remove myself temporarily from her straying wand. The thought of seeing myself bedecked in fishnet stockings and purple hair, cleaning up squids’ eyes and flobberworm intestines from my classroom walls, still has the power to make me break out in a sweat.

But then I saw her there, in the crowd. It was too late to hide; she’d seen me, and it was clear to me that the laughter in her beguiling eyes was aimed directly at me. She stopped before me, smiling up at me, her hands on her hips.

“Severus!” she had called out. “I wouldn’t have expected to find you here. Don’t you normally shun doings like this?”

“I’ve always been a fan of Quidditch,” I said, defending myself. “Especially when played by professionals. It makes a nice change from the dundering athletes at school.”

“Where are you sitting?”

I tried to gloss over my seating arrangements, but she was too direct, too determined to know. I mutely showed her my ticket, and watched as she looked up to the right, where my assigned seat was. Frowning, she looked back at me.

“I can get you a better seat,” she said, and before I was able to resist, she took me firmly by the hand and pulled me behind her as she fought the crowds to climb an endless flight of rickety stairway to the Top Box!

It would have been impossible for me to duck away and make my escape, what with the crowd pressing in on all sides; that’s the only defense I will make as to why I followed her. Besides, who wouldn’t have hoped for a seat in which one would actually be able to watch the game? I knew the seat I’d been assigned was mostly behind the posts anyway. To gain entry to the Top Box... I would have to have been the dimmest of fools to turn it down. It had nothing to do with Olivia herself; I had actually been trying to avoid her! I _had!_

The Top Box was already crowded when we had finally worked our way up there. The Weasley clan, which included that Potter brat and another Weasley side-kick, that smug, pain-in-the-arse Granger, were already seated. A pitiful-looking house-elf was there, apparently sent ahead of time to secure a seat for her master; she was sitting in the same row as were the Malfoys. I was glad Lucius had not turned to see us come into the box. I was still too flustered by Olivia’s attention to come up with the niceties that were seemingly so important in these social situations.

We grabbed the two seats that were off to the side, offering an excellent view of the playing field before us, so high up that we would be able to see on the same level as most of the players themselves. A post protected us, for the most part, from being clearly seen by the others in the box. All things considered, I could not find fault in these arrangements. I began to relax somewhat, hoping this prankster’s intentions in bringing me up here were honorable, and that I’d not be Transfigured into something unspeakable in full view of this massive crowd.

Olivia hadn’t much to say to me in the excitement of the pre-game activities, for which I was profoundly grateful. I had never mastered the art of small talk, and she was a witch I would not want to offend by my monosyllabic answers.

The Irish team’s mascots began throwing leprechaun gold all over the stands, and I had a moment of unease as Olivia leaned over the rail in front of us, reaching down dangerously. I reached out to steady her, wondering why it was so important for her to climb out so carelessly when there was fallen gold all around us. At that moment, a flood of the wandering and devilish leprechauns swarmed up toward the box, and in the melee, Olivia was thrown back against me.

In those precious few moments when all hell was breaking loose, I was only aware of the heat of her under her robes, of the feel of her body pressed against mine. I had, without thinking, wrapped my arm around her, pulling her even closer to me; I could feel the weight of her breasts resting on my arm, her firm backside against my erection. I cannot form a logical excuse for my brief moment of insanity. I bowed my head slightly to breathe in the scent of her silken hair, even as I struggled to command my arms to release her.

I finally found enough presence of mind to take her upper arms and steady her on her feet as I moved her away from me, glancing down at my robes to make sure they draped properly, hiding the evidence of my arousal from any eyes that strayed my way. I guided Olivia to the seat next to me as I returned to my own, and saw what had caught her attention in the first place.

She was holding a struggling leprechaun in her hand, and he seemed quite upset about it. She held him securely, never taking her eyes from him. Eventually, the little sprite seemed to calm down, and he pulled out several gold coins to offer her in exchange for his freedom. She gave him a sardonic smile, which caused him to drop the useless coins. He at least had the grace to look sheepish for trying to sway her with false gold.

It surprised me when she simply opened up her hand to allow him to escape. It no doubt surprised him as well, because he stood on her open palm for a few heartbeats before jumping away from her. As he landed on the rail in front of us, he looked back briefly, as if to ask if she was sure. Then he flew off, joining his compatriots, who settled on the ground, awaiting the game.

I caught her eye, but she just quirked one lovely eyebrow before turning back to the field. Had it been her intention to further intrigue me? It worked, intentional or not. I was hooked. Who was this witch who enjoyed upsetting the well-ordered lives of the people around her, but refused to demand proper payment upon catching an elusive leprechaun?

I wasn’t lying when I said I had always been interested in Quidditch. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if the field hosted a Quidditch match or if Christians were being fed to lions; I couldn’t have cared less. As Olivia watched the game being played, I watched her. I had never noticed before then the small white scar that cut into her lip. I had never before seen the many different shades of black and brown in her shining hair until then.

Eventually, I suppose she must have felt my gaze upon her. She had turned to meet my eyes so quickly that I was taken by surprise. I hadn’t had time to look away. Once our eyes met, it was impossible to do so. I was caught in the light of those emerald green depths as a Kneazle would have been caught in the sudden flaring of a searching wand’s “Lumos”.

I remember the flash of actual fear and trepidation I’d felt when her eyes had narrowed slightly. And still, I couldn’t look away. The light in her eyes had taken on a new glint, and my mouth became dry when I felt the soft touch of her hand upon my leg, her fingers against my inner thigh.

Her hand found its way into the opening of my robes and was now hidden underneath. I scarcely dared draw another breath as her warm hands caressed my leg, moving perilously close to my still-hard member. I realized then that my legs were tense enough to ache, but I couldn’t relax, even as I concentrated on doing so.

I shot a look then over to where the rest were sitting, but I saw that their attentions were firmly fixed on the playing field before us. Her hand closed over me, over the hardest part of me then, and I blew out the breath I was holding as my eyes shut tight in incredulity and pleasure. I felt my grip tighten on the armrests of my seat, and my hips, without the order from my brain, pushed up against her hand, wanting more.

There was nothing more than a thin layer of wool between her hand and me, as I had worn nothing under my trousers that morning. It seemed to me to be the height of cruelty for her to massage me in such a way without making direct contact with my flesh. I had never before taken part in any sort of public display of affection; truth to tell, I had always felt disgust and discomfort in witnessing such a thing between others. But what she was doing to me at that moment was quickly changing my attitude about what could be considered proper behavior in public. I don’t remember being all that aware of the others at the time.

I watched the serious expression on her face as she leaned slightly toward me, using both her hands to unbutton my fly. Until that moment, I hadn’t really believed she was intending to do anything more than tease me ruthlessly, knowing I would be powerless to do anything about it with all these people about. It was then I felt the first fluttering of panic inside me. Of all things that could ruin my life, all the things that could have been made public about me, I had never envisioned being caught fully exposed and _in flagrante delicto._

By the time I forced my brain to send a message to my hands to act, she had undone the topmost button on my trousers. My hand covered both of hers, and I tried to speak, to tell her to stop. She waited silently, the dangerous light still apparent in her eyes, giving me plenty of time to protest.

But I couldn’t.

Even after clearing my throat, the words refused to come out and be heard. I helplessly watched as the knowing smile came to her lips, as her hands moved under mine to work on the next button. I looked down at my lap, and although my brain was unable to operate my mouth, it at least enabled me to think clearly enough to move my robes around with my other hand to ensure I wasn’t exposed. My left hand was still covering hers, but it was powerless to stop her progress.

There was something so erotic in not seeing what was happening, yet feeling everything, having to use my mind’s eye to watch it all. My straining erection was pushing against my fly, as if knowing freedom was just around the corner. I pulled my hand away at last, returning it to the armrest, and I felt the second button go. Almost simultaneously, I gasped as Olivia drew a line through the lightweight wool of my trousers down to my swollen balls with her fingernail.

There came a commotion on the field just then, and as a speeding Seeker came flying overhead in search of the Snitch, I felt the rest of my fly give way. Hoping all eyes would keep to the Seeker as he flew back toward the field, I gripped the arms of my seat tightly, groaning as Olivia’s hot hands firmly gripped me, pushing aside the opened fly. As her hands moved over me, taking my measure and cupping my balls, I scrambled to rearrange my robes to cover myself and her hands as they again slipped aside. My eyes rolled up in their sockets, my eyelids closing in rapture. My breath had begun coming in gasps by then; trying to control it would have taken more presence of mind than I was capable of. What wizard had taught this witch just how to stroke, just where to apply more pressure? For it had to have been a wizard who’d taught her; such expertise couldn’t have been blamed on chance. What witch could have known just how to…to press against that vein just so? How to…tighten her fist around him to…ohhh gods…to make it...so g-g-good?

Upon realizing that I’d begun groaning audibly, my eyes shot open and I worriedly cast my gaze around me. Olivia was watching me, but everyone else was watching the activities on the grounds below us; someone had been accused of foul play and the fans were protesting.

Quidditch flew quickly out of my mind, because she danced her thumb over the seeping head of my cock and was rubbing the wetness all around. As I pushed against the armrests and the rest of me tensed away from my seat, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you who was playing that day, besides Olivia. My hips began to thrust upward in a rhythm to match the stroking of her hands; my breaths were half moans, half gasps; a slight red haze came into my line of vision.

I became dimly aware that once again, my robes had fallen away. I could see, and more importantly, I could feel how her oh, so exciting hands were sliding up and down my shaft from the base all the way over the head; my hips were bucking and thrusting in time. She began to pump harder and faster, and I was horrified to hear that my traitorous vocal cords were now working, making sounds I was powerless to control.

Oh, it is now so easy to recall each minute detail of that day as I sit here, grateful that only one hand is needed to write. I well remember how I had mindlessly shouted my excitement to the crowd, who, thankfully, would only have assumed I was cheering along with the rest of them. Gods, I will never forget the feeling of my climax pulsing through me, spurting out ropes of my semen, past the railing in front of us, raining down to the ground so far below. Nor the softly whispered, _“Purgo”_ that cleaned up all traces of that wondrous and unbelievable experience.

It had wiped me out completely. Not just what she’d done to me, but also the shock of it having happened. Looking closely into her eyes as she re-buttoned my fly, I could see that the light of mischief was still there, but it was different then; her eyes had darkened, giving that light a different tone. She hadn’t been simply trying to make me crazy; she hadn’t wanted to put me in an extremely difficult situation; she’d been turned on by what she’d done. It had been this realization that shocked me more than the act itself, and before I could begin to assess what it all meant, the match was over and we had made our escape from the Top Box in the confusion of the Quidditch players coming into it.

There had been quite a lot of terror and madness immediately following the match, as Death Eaters had begun to torture the Muggles who ran one of the campsites. I had lost Olivia in the tumult. Not wishing to be connected in any way with those foolhardy servants of the former Dark Lord, I had escaped back to Hogwarts, pacing the corridors as I waited for some sign that Olivia had made it back unscathed.

She had, but there had been as much mindless running amok from most of the faculty and staff here as had been in the woods, so I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her that night. Since then, I’d only had a brief glimpse of her here and there. She was avoiding the Great Hall for meals, but since she normally did that, I couldn’t draw any conclusions from her absence.

Hoping I haven’t alienated her in any way, I continue to seek her out in places other than staff meetings and mealtimes. Is she avoiding me?

It is the memory of that day that fuels my dreams at night. It is thanks to her that I can no longer take the most basic daily ritual, such as a shower, for granted. I can’t even apply soap to myself without memories of her hands on me taking over my mind. Her rooms, I know, are up on the sixth floor of the castle; her classroom is on the fourth. I have no valid reason to be on either of those floors, but it won’t stop me. I must see her again soon, if only to assure myself that it had really happened; that I hadn’t simply dreamed the entire incident.

The first Quidditch match of the year will take place soon, and it’s between Gryffindor and Slytherin. I will be expected to attend; even my Slytherin mind will not be able to come up with a legitimate reason not to go. How then, will I sit through the game; how could I do so, with thoughts of quite a different game going through my mind?

I’ve heard it said that abstinence makes the heart grow fonder; I believe it only feeds the obsession.


	2. In the Bookroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this really happening? Or is Severus losing his mind?

Chapter 2  
In the Bookroom

20th, November

Seems quite a bit of time has passed since I’d last opened this journal. It isn’t that I’ve been too busy; well, not with lessons or staff duties. This is quite a busy time for us all here at Hogwarts, as we prepare and participate in all the goings-on that center around the Triwizard Tournament. It’s very exciting to have something such as this tournament taking place here at Hogwarts, although the things we’ve had to do to accommodate such an event can be annoying.

Karkaroff has come here, as he is the headmaster of Durmstrang Institute. How irritating that my former dark acquaintance has risen to such a high level of career while I stew in my position as Potions Master! Not that I would like to take Dumbledore’s place, but if I could at least have been given the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Master that I’ve sought these last several years...

I’m grateful Karkaroff shows no signs of wanting to renew our acquaintance. Clearly, he doesn’t wish our former association known any more than do I. Most of the rest of the staff are keeping busy, catering to our foreign guests, but so far, it hasn’t really affected my own duties.

No, what’s been keeping me too busy to write is my obsessive searching for that ever-elusive Olivia. I can barely even remember the sound of her voice, as she never speaks up in staff meetings, and I so rarely find her with other people. I can’t even eavesdrop on her conversations to hear her voice, as she doesn’t seem to converse with anyone. I did turn a corner once to see her engaged in a heated confrontation with Peeves, but Peeves had taken off at the sight of me, and she followed soon after.

It worries me that she’d only smiled and winked before disappearing that way. I had tried to follow after her, calling out to her, but she was gone by the time I’d reached the end of the corridor.

Yes, she is definitely avoiding me. What demon controls that cursed vixen to cause her to enslave my will and then deny me her company? Was her sole purpose in coming to Hogwarts simply to torment me mercilessly?

So, as I moon about like a love-sick puppy, my obsession has reached a new level of pathetic. I still have the fortitude, at least, to carry on in lessons, but I must admit my frustration is showing. I have already threatened my students by stating my intention to test their antidote attempts on themselves, and the student I plan to poison is, of course, Harry Potter. Let him show off when his antidote fails because he’s not the student prodigy he pretends to be.

It doesn’t help ease my mind that, of all the wizards who could have been chosen to rub it in my face that I’ll never be the DADA professor, it had to be Mad-Eye Moody. That freak of nature sees far too much, and he’s always suspected that my loyalties remain with the memory of the Dark Lord. But what does Dumbledore believe? I would like to think that if the headmaster has doubts about me, he’d come to me with them. The very idea that he would make such an obvious move to bring someone into the castle with the express purpose of spying on me... I feel as though I’ve crossed over into the realms of Hell, with no clear memory of having done so.

On the other hand, it could be that Moody’s paranoia is simply becoming contagious. After all, Karkaroff’s former associations are public knowledge; who better to keep an eye on our visitors than an Auror? No, I will no longer dwell on Moody’s reasons for being here.

I do, however, think I should continue to avoid that wandering blue eye.

Of course, there are times when it will be impossible to do so, without letting everyone around know how wary of him I truly am. For example, the cretin came to me not long ago, young Malfoy in hand, and complained that the lad in question had been throwing hexes around the halls, attacking someone who’d turned his back on him. Such ideas about fair play hardly concerned any Slytherin worth his House, but try telling that to Moody.

Then I found out the intended victim of Malfoy’s hex was none other than Potter, and I silently cursed the man who had put a stop to it. Moody had admitted he’d Transfigured Malfoy into a ferret and bounced him around the hallway a few times before McGonagall had interfered. I had to struggle to keep my face impassive at hearing this. Granted, the knowledge that one of my House had suffered such an indignity made the blood boil inside me, but the mental image it brought to mind threatened to pull heartfelt laughter from me as well, and it would not do for Malfoy to report to his father that his Head of House had enjoyed his embarrassment at the hands of ‘one of them’.

But tonight, I don’t care what Moody thinks of me; I don’t care what these abominable students do to one another. For tonight, she had not run away from me.

I had no idea she was anywhere around. I was simply returning to my rooms from the third floor staff lounge, and she was suddenly there, half-hidden in a recessed doorway to the seldom-used bookroom. I was completely nonplussed by her unanticipated presence, and as I stood there, no doubt looking like the mute fool I am, she smiled the smile I could remember so plainly in my dreams, the light in her eyes aimed only at me, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

Before I could utter a word, she took me quite aggressively by the arm and pulled me into the room, shutting the door behind us. Almost throwing me back against the cold wall, she pressed against me, and I was helplessly carried along, unable even to voice a protest at her actions. As if I would have...

Gods, it had been so long since I’d felt the heat of her body, smelled the feminine aroma of her. My imagination could never have done justice to the sweet taste of her lips, and my senses reeled when she pressed them to mine, her breasts flattening against my chest. Her hands were suddenly all over my body, and I cursed the material of our clothing as it stood barrier to my need to feel flesh upon flesh. Before I knew what she was up to, she took my wand from my robes and flung it away behind her. I heard it clatter to the floor somewhere in the darkness of the room, but could not summon the worry necessary for me to “Accio” it back to me, for by then her lips were nuzzling my exposed neck; she’d already managed to undo the topmost buttons of my frock coat and shirt.

I dimly wondered what magical charm she’d placed upon my will as I leaned back against that stone wall, my mind completely unable to cope with the very concept of being here with her, the very idea that I was the target of her lust. It was something I’d almost completely written off as a figment of my lonely daydreams. And when I felt her hands opening my coat and shirt, the better to touch me, to feel my pounding heartbeat, I stopped trying to make sense of it all, and knew that even if I would ever learn that she’d used the Imperius Curse on me, I wouldn’t take back these moments for anything.

I moaned shamelessly at feeling her hot hand cupping me, rubbing through my trousers and encouraging the growing evidence of her effect upon me, her mouth teasing my chest. As she found my nipple and employed just a bit of suction upon it, I gasped loudly, surprised at such feelings awoken in my body. I grabbed at her then, wanting to feel all of her, this wondrous being who could so effortlessly make me feel these things, but she removed her remarkable hand from my hard bulge and pushed my hands back against the wall. I complied willingly enough; anything to keep her happy. Instinct told me if she was happy, I would be ecstatic.

She returned her lips to mine, and I opened to let her questing tongue inside. As I tasted the nectar of her mouth, moaning around her tongue, I felt my fly giving way to her skilled fingers. Oh, yes...this is what my limited memory had been striving to recall...the heated grip of her hands around my pulsating cock. She stopped sucking on my tongue and dropped to her knees as I pulled in a great amount of much-needed oxygen.

My aching cock knew what she was up to even before my useless mind could register it, and I felt the pre-cum beginning to seep out. As she teased me with her tongue, running it over and around the incredibly sensitive head, I felt my other head pound against the wall behind me. Not wishing to give her any reason to stop what she was doing, I avoided reaching out to her with my hands, yet I needed to grab onto something, needed to grip something to use up some of the tension she was creating in me.

I reached up to either side of me, finding a shelf loaded with books to my right, mercifully giving me something to hold on to. My left hand flailed uselessly, in search of the same sort of purchase, finding nothing but the woodwork around the doorway. I don’t recall what that hand eventually grabbed; my attention was focused elsewhere.

I looked down to where her lips wrapped around me; the sight was so erotic that my senses couldn’t take it all in. I shut my eyes, but that didn’t alleviate the attack on my nervous system. On the contrary, it seemed then that her every touch on my ball sac, every flicker of her tongue…everything she did seemed magnified, and then she pulled back from me, her mouth closing around me, the suction great in her withdrawal.

“Oh, my gods!” I remember shamelessly the words I uttered in my mindless surrender to her will. One corner of my mind registered the hoarseness of my words; my voice was not the sound I recognized. The words had been wrenched from me, and the last of my free will flew out the window as she reversed her motion and took me deep into her mouth. I could feel the back of her throat trying to close against me, even as her hands on my hips pulled me in deeper.

I could feel the pain in my fingers as they clamped hard on the shelf to my right, but I couldn’t have cared less. My hips, controlled by forces unseen and unknown, began to buck under her hands; I felt the tightness of my balls as she coated my shaft with her wet mouth. Ahhh, did she know how close I was getting? Could she tell I was beyond articulate thought?

Gasping uncontrollably with each thrust of my hips toward her mouth, I strove to reach something I couldn’t yet envision; the promise of ecstasy that was hiding just around the corner of my senses. Nothing in the world mattered except that ultimate goal, that intangible promise of rapture comparable to nothing on this earth.

I was momentarily shocked back to awareness as the shelf to my right gave way under my assault, and the heavy tomes went crashing down to the floor, the shelf splintering in their wake. The goddess on her knees before me hadn’t missed a beat, and she moaned around my cock, the vibrations forcefully ejecting the crash away from my fevered brain.

Having nothing left to hold onto, my hands, against my will, moved to her shoulders, gripping more fiercely than I would have thought she’d put up with, pulling her to me as I thrust against her, fucking her mouth like a madman. Surely Pan was lurking in the shadows, encouraging us, as the sound of my harsh, guttural cries filled the room, her soft moans making me crazy as I evoked the spirits of all that is holy and unholy in my mindless need for release.

I felt her put the slightest pressure on my screaming balls, and suddenly, I was past the barrier of her throat. As she swallowed around me, I felt my brain—and everything else--explode in a blinding eruption of passion and lava, my shouting coming from deep inside me, from the same part of me that spewed forth my seed for her to swallow.

My orgasm seemed to last forever, and as wave over wave of pulsing spasms overtook me, I thoughtlessly tried to bury myself deep down her throat, without a thought as to her need to breathe, her need to escape my clutches while still alive. It was almost possible to actually feel the creases of my brain smooth out, and I couldn’t have formed a human thought to save my life, or anyone else’s.

Time meant nothing to me. I could have been drifting over Elysian fields for a hundred years, or for ten seconds; it was impossible to know. I gradually became aware once more of the dark room around us, of my breath slowly returning to normal. Alerted to her once again when she moved to stand before me, I belatedly worried that I had hurt her at the height of my passion.

But she was smiling at me, and I relaxed, feeling the tension leaving my body. I passively stood there, the wall holding me up, as she tucked me back into my trousers and worked the buttons on my fly and shirt. I looked down at the books splayed over the floor, and the splintered remains of the old, rotting shelf that had held them. Automatically muttering, “Reparo,” I laughed at my own forgetfulness. My wand was still somewhere in the darkness, and in my still-dazed afterglow, I was almost useless without it.

She grinned then, and with a wave of her hand, the shelf was repaired, the books in place on it, the whole thing once more bolted to the wall beside me. She said nothing, but smiled as she slowly buttoned my frock coat for me. I leaned down to kiss her lips, pushing my tongue into her mouth; the most assertive act I’d done in these months of knowing her.

I could still taste some of myself in her mouth, and I wasn’t sure I minded. I was flattered that she didn’t mind at all, and still could not fully process her reasons for doing what she did. How could she want me for this, when she did everything she could to avoid me so often? Was I simply to be her toy? Did she seriously want someone to lavish this attention on that had no will of his own?

And how did I feel about that?

It was impossible for me, at the time, to think logically about those worries. I know the common term among the generally unwashed public was ‘pussy-whipped’, and it went against my grain. I would not give up all my pride, even with the result being the mind-boggling experience she’d just given me. I was a man, after all, and not in the habit of being at anyone’s beck and call, no matter what the reward.

But none of these thoughts occurred to me as I looked into her green eyes, delighting in the glow emanating from them. It is only now, as I sit here before my journal, that I can put words to those feelings she brought forth in me.

I will have to find the strength from somewhere deep inside of myself to refuse to play her game. I must salvage my pride; I will not be some witch’s boy toy, jumping when she snapped her fingers.

But am I kidding myself? Even now, as I am far removed from her presence, wouldn’t I drop everything to run to her? To taste her lips once again? To feel her hands on my body?

It helps when I remember the jolt of shock that had coursed through me when we left the room. I turned the corner and almost tripped over Moody, who had been coming down the corridor toward the bookroom. Why hadn’t I heard the clomping of his wooden leg? Were my thoughts so taken with Olivia that I was unaware of what was happening around me?

Moody had fixed me with a look that spoke volumes, and it caused me no end of discomfort, knowing he could have seen through the walls to what Olivia and I had been doing mere moments earlier. I didn’t like the idea of exhibiting such behavior to anyone, least of all to someone I tried to avoid on principle, and I looked behind me to gauge Olivia’s reaction.

She was gone.

Glancing down the length of corridor behind me, I found it empty, and surmised that she’d returned to the bookroom when she saw Moody. Could he see her in there? Was she even there? She did have a rather disturbing way of completely disappearing, and quite suddenly.

It was then I remembered my discarded wand, and, ignoring Moody completely, leaving him to speculate on my behavior or not, I returned to the dark room to search for my wand.

The room was empty, and already I began to doubt the incident even took place. Grabbing my wand, leaving the room and pushing past Moody, I returned here to my journal.

Am I losing my mind?


	3. Intensity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus becomes more deeply involved.

Chapter 3  
Intensity

27th, December

There are times, so many times, that I wish the only communication I had to employ is with this journal. Granted, there are things Albus must know about--the burning and gradual display of the mark on my arm being one of them. But my temper, of late, does not make it easy to deal with my students, nor with my colleagues. Add to that the ever-present and annoying Igor Karkaroff, and I’m pushed to my limits. The fool actually thinks he’ll be able to escape the calling when it comes. In a foul mood because of unrelated things, I had encouraged him to flee. Whether or not he will, only time will tell.

The reason for my foul mood of that evening was none other than the exasperating Olivia. I had fully expected her to appear at the Yule Ball, but she had not been there. Had I but known it was possible to avoid it, I would have done so myself. It had been my intention to hold her closely as we danced, trying to seduce her, if only to prove to myself that it was possible for me to call the shots in our misbegotten relationship.

I had tried to appease myself by remembering my lack of control when in her presence, but it hadn’t helped my frustration. The poor students I’d blasted away from the rose bushes in the gardens had borne the brunt of my tantrum, but it had done little to calm me.

I hadn’t bothered asking anyone if they’d seen her; no one need know that she occupies my every thought, both while I’m awake and also as I dream during those rare nights when I can actually fall asleep.

I don’t remember sleeping that night, but I do remember dragging myself from my tousled bed and forcing one foot in front of the other as I made my way into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. I had been in no better a mood than on the previous night.

I sat there, toying with my porridge, debating whether or not to force some of it down my throat, when I looked across the table to see her sitting there next to Sinistra. She caught my eye and smiled; she actually had the audacity to wink at me! I had purposely narrowed my eyes at her, to show her I did not welcome her attention. I would not be seeking her out, and I wanted her to know that.

She quirked her eyebrow at me, and I wondered then if she knew what that did to me. Determined to show her I didn’t need her, didn’t want her, I leaned casually back in my chair, crossed my arms, and stared her down. Two could play her game, and it would take more than a mischievous, petite, and stunningly attractive young witch to bring down Severus Snape.

As I sat there, smug in my self-restraint, I became aware of a warm pressure on my nether region. I shot my look down to my lap, finding nothing amiss, and darted a quick look around me. No one seemed to feel anything was out of place, and as I looked back across the table, I caught Olivia’s eyes again. She added a smile to her lips to match the laughter in her eyes, and I felt the pressure on my hardening bulge increase.

What powers this witch had, to make me feel her touch across this distance!

My eyes shut tightly against my will; it was no different than if she were sitting next to me, touching me. I could feel my heart begin to pound within my chest, my breathing coming more rapidly. Remembering Minerva’s out-of-control bushy curls and Poppy’s regurgitating bedpans, I decided it was high time I fled the Great Hall.

Standing quickly and pulling my robes around me, moving them this way and that so as to deny the fact that I was hiding behind them, I used the door behind the staff table, retreating into the chamber beyond, to escape to the corridor.

Once there, I leaned back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I could see students crossing the hallway ahead, and I knew I couldn’t stay there, especially if the vixen chose to follow me. I no longer believed she worried about being discovered practicing the sort of games one should do only in the privacy of one’s rooms.

I pushed myself away from the wall then, seeking sanctuary in my dungeon rooms. I could only stop myself from breaking into a run at the thought of students wondering why their dreaded Potions Master would run through the halls of Hogwarts as if the Dark Lord himself were chasing after me.

I believe I could have faced him more easily than I could face Olivia.

I threw myself into my rooms, warding the door behind me. Seeing my unmade bed, I waved my wand to fix the sheets and blanket in place. I took my wine glass from last evening into the kitchenette and rinsed it, striving for normalcy to quell the uneasiness in my still-racing heart.

No classes; it was Boxing Day. The students would have no lessons until after the New Year. I paced my sitting room, too restless to sit. I had to find something to do, else I would no doubt find myself out in the corridors, searching for her once again. What enslavement charm had the witch used on me? How would I ever break free of it?

Did I really want to?

When else had I ever felt so alive as I did when in her company? What else in this world could take me to the heights of pleasure and passion as her attentions? Even the endless mooning around, fruitlessly hoping for a glimpse of her, was preferable to spending my time plodding through the meaningless days which blended into one another, having nothing to look forward to.

Mentally exhausted, I ripped off my robes and frock coat, throwing myself down on my bed. Perhaps I could calm my agitated and throbbing body, as well as kill a few hours, if I simply tried to catch up on the sleep I’d missed during the night.

After I’d tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, I was still awake. I kicked off my shoes and loosened my shirt cuffs, hoping to get more comfortable. I told myself that must have been the reason I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t my still-aroused body, clamoring for attention.

I closed my eyes then, willing myself to relax. Letting my mind drift, I felt my pulse quickening as my thoughts went back again and again to the lovely Olivia, and the magical touch of her hot hand on my bulge. Groaning aloud, I wondered if I could exorcise her from my sleep-deprived mind if I simply took myself in hand.

Having decided not to fight so hard, I let my mind go back to that memorable Quidditch game, and to the bookroom. I smoothed my hand down my chest, pushing open the buttons on my shirt. As my hand caressed the skin of my chest and stomach, my imagination and memory graciously allowed me to feel her hand there instead. I was hardening again, struggling for room inside my trousers.

Keeping my eyes tightly shut, lest my surroundings break my concentration, I moved my hand down over my bulge, trying to emulate her touch as I traced over my balls, using the tip of my finger to follow a line over my trousers, as she had done at the game. I was panting by then, and I cupped myself, using the same amount of pressure she’d used only that morning from afar.

My eyes flew open as I felt my bed shift to accommodate the sudden appearance of Olivia beside me. As my startled hands froze, she took over, and it was so much better to feel the difference in touch, to feel such pleasure from hands other than my own. I realized it had been ludicrous of me to believe I could escape her; if she could touch me without _touching_ me, then surely my wards wouldn’t be a challenge for her.

I was speechless as her fingers moved to my fly and slowly, as if waiting for me to stop her, she began to open it. And why hadn’t I stopped her then? What had happened to all my promises to myself to escape her clutches? To refuse to fall victim to her dominance?

I cannot answer these questions now, any more than I could have answered them then.

I lay there passively as she took me into her hands, moaning as she used her touch and the lust in her eyes to pull me into her web. Words cannot describe the erotic atmosphere surrounding us as she let go of me just long enough to slowly pull down my trousers to remove them from me. I didn’t lift a finger to help her remove my shirt. If it weren’t for the tension in my body, I would be no more than a rag doll for her to play with.

And play she did. Oh, gods of erotica…she knew all the best games. My swollen cock was purple as she teasingly, with agonizing slowness, moved her soft lips over every inch of me, searching for every spot on my body that would induce another moan from my dry mouth. She was ruthless, nibbling on parts of me I hadn’t been aware were so sensitive, purposely avoiding that twitching member so eagerly begging her attention.

I shamelessly allowed her to continue, even to reaching up to my pillows, grabbing them so as to avoid grabbing her. When I heard her mumble, then saw that her clothing was gone, I anticipated culmination of the passion she’d aroused in me.

Silly of me, really.

She rubbed her heated body against me, sliding upward, using every part of her to touch every part of me. She braced herself by taking hold of my wrists, levering herself up until she was straddling my hips, my aching and seeping cock trapped under her. I could feel the hot wetness of her, and she tortured me by shifting over me, coating my shaft with her liquid passion. Groaning, I tried to maneuver my hips until I could enter her, but she leaned forward, lifting herself slightly to break contact with me.

Feeling as though I were being punished, I fought to control my breathing. I don’t know why I bothered trying; every move she made, and didn’t make, resulted in another gasp from me, another groan of protest ripped from my lungs.

She leaned forward, pressing my wrists to the mattress. She played her lips and tongue over my neck, and it seemed every nerve I had was brought so close to the surface of my skin. As I felt the pain of her teeth near my jugular, I swear I almost erupted right then and there.

“Olivia!” I called out. I was prepared by then to promise her things no wizard should ever promise a witch in the heat of passion; my mind had ceased to exist. Such is the reason all wizards should be castrated at birth. Luckily for me, she moved until she had brought herself down upon my straining cock, and I forced myself to concentrate on the tingling of my left arm so I wouldn’t bring an end to things between us, for it was much too soon for that.

Like the soulless sack of hormones that I was, I savored the sensual friction of her tight heat enveloping my shaft, stroking me to near-insanity as she settled deeply onto my hips, gasping as she wriggled slightly. The move pushed me to a place inside her, touching a spot that caused her instant ecstasy with each thrust; her resulting inner spasms shot bolts of sensation through my cock, straight to my balls. I was groaning almost non-stop; my pride was salvaged only by hearing her answering moans and heavy breathing. At least I wasn’t alone in my blind need.

My hips began thrusting upward, always wanting more, always seeking that obscure release that would appear on some distant mental horizon, only to move away at my approach. I surmised it was my lack of leverage that denied me the ability to find just the right movement, just the right angle, to catch up to that seemingly unattainable goal. As she moaned out my name, and the tingling on my left arm became more of an annoying burn, I began to feel anger, the frustration pooling inside my being until I could break free of her grip and slam her down to the bed.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise, but I pounded into her, willing her to give it up for me. I pulled almost entirely out of her, only to plunge deeply into her before she could protest the loss. Pulling her arms up, locking my hands onto hers, I covered her body with mine, using my weight and my thrusts to make her my prisoner.

I lowered my lips to her neck; my breathing being too fast and heavy to kiss her, I simply used my teeth to mark her neck as my property. The control I had over her now made me feel more powerful than ever before, and the pain of my arm caused me to want to lash out at her. Never again would she hold my will in her hands; the idea of my jumping to her snapping fingers--or anyone else’s--was enough to bring out the beast in me, and I reacted.

As she tensed up beneath me, arching her back and begging me for release, I lorded over her, knowing I could hold out until I was ready to end this madness. I used my voice, breathing my words into her ear, to encourage her to let go; I used my body to push her over the edge. As she yielded to the inevitable and convulsed around my pounding cock, I rode her mercilessly, not allowing her the pace that would allow her to come down.

I concentrated, keeping her hands locked safely under my own, else I’m sure my back would have been sliced to ribbons. Her shouts ringing in my ears, I began to slow my movements, giving her the false hope that she would be able to recover from the shocks of pleasure that had so obviously ravaged her body. As she lay gasping, her eyes still glazed and her heart pounding hard against my chest, I slowly pulled out of her, catching her resulting moan with my lips.

Before she could fully recover, I quickly moved to flip her over, almost burying her face in the pillow. I felt her body stiffen up under mine, and I decided I had better move quickly, not allowing her quick mind time to plan evasive strategy.

I forced my legs between hers and opened them wider. I let her feel my weight upon her back as I teased her opening with my cock. Her slight struggles under me excited me even further as I pulled both her wrists into one hand and held her there. As my other hand reached under her to cup her breast, squeezing, and pulling at her nipple enough to divert her attention, I pushed deeply into her wetness, forcing her body toward the headboard with the force.

My arm was stinging; the pain seemed to be getting greater with each minute. I knew what it was; I had always suspected I’d feel this pain again. It enraged me, and in my present state of mind, I had equated it with the repressed anger of being so enamored of Olivia that I no longer felt I had any will of my own. All the rage and frustration seemed to gather force inside me as I reached down to her belly, pulling her up under me as I rose to my knees.

I brought my teeth to her shoulder as I pounded into her; she threw back her head, crying out, but I couldn’t tell whether it was passion or pain I heard in her voice. For even as she called out, she was thrusting back against me, and together we’d found the rhythm that took my mind away from my rage, and from the irritating mark on my arm.

With each plunge deep into her depths, I felt my sense of manhood coming back in force. I felt the heat increasing from her and knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d be clamping her muscles tightly around me once again, and I braced myself for it. I wasn’t finished with her yet, and I mentally prepared to withhold from her my own explosion; it would be more difficult this time, for her passion, even in the face of my dominance, was pushing me onward, forcing me ever closer to that horizon.

As she arched her back and pushed hard against me, tensing as she hoarsely shouted out my name, I conjured up images of dark revels, of maniacal eyes hidden behind masks, and I was able to control my own passion. I reached around to rub my finger over her swollen clit, and as she thrashed her hips, she threw back her head, catching me unaware. I felt the pain of my split lip, could taste the blood as it seeped into my mouth, and I again brought my teeth to her shoulder, smearing my blood over her, wishing I could mark her permanently.

She collapsed to the bed, and I followed, not wishing yet to break contact. Trying to regroup quickly, I again flipped her over so that she lay there under me, exhausted and looking up at me with what could almost be a trace of fear in her eyes. This is what I had been aiming for, I realized. I had wanted her to know I was someone she must take seriously, someone who could surprise her when she wasn’t expecting it. Someone who couldn’t be manipulated so easily.

I looked for that light in her eyes. It was different somehow; it seemed more brittle. Could she really be afraid of me? Is that what I had wanted?

I refused to let myself dwell on it. Hooking my arm under her leg, I opened her up, and as she moaned, “Oh, my gods, Severus…” I pushed into her, burying myself deep. I stilled then, feeling her muscles work around me, adjusting to me. She closed her eyes, and I could see and feel the tension all through her body; I knew I could make her come again, and this time I would join her; this time would be for both of us.

I took her slowly, moving my hips before each inward thrust, loving the way she tightened around me, her body responding even in her exhaustion. As her hips started moving under me, matching my pace, I released her leg, allowing her to wrap both her legs around me. Her hands came to my head, her fingers lacing through my hair, and the tenderness that filled me as she softly moaned into my ear was a balm to my confused psyche.

I moved myself over her body so that the roughness of the hair on my chest abraded her nipples. She responded by wrapping her arms around me, pulling me closer to her and I felt her legs tighten around me. Feeling completely enveloped by her, embraced by the tenderness of her touch, I was overcome by such an intense feeling of…of…I don’t _know_ what. It couldn’t be love; I was incapable of feeling love for anyone, of being loved by anyone.

But for a while, I could pretend. She made it easy. I pulled myself away from her, only enough so that I could watch her eyes as I began to fuck her faster; I began moving inside her, searching for that special place in her which would bring both of us to fulfillment. She responded immediately, so closely were we mentally, as well as physically, joined. In that moment, we really were one entity, traveling together toward that glowing conflagration of intensity, straining with and against each other on the way. 

My body took over completely, bucking hard and fast, my harsh voice betraying my primitive side as the years of evolution disappeared, revealing the subhuman nature that civilized wizards try to keep hidden. I felt her tense under and around me, felt her inner heat shoot up dramatically. It was time. 

I turned myself loose, giving over to what my body had been screaming for since seeing her in the Great Hall this morning. I lost track of the world around me as my hips bucked spasmodically, pumping into her as her muscles clamped down on me. I ground myself into her, and she went wild; I felt the pain of her nails ripping into the flesh of my back, heard her cries resounding in my ear as mine echoed into hers. One more hard thrust and I joined her, the understanding hitting me then as I looked into her eyes just as I exploded inside her. 

That light…it was life. It was for me. 

I think we both passed out then; it was too sudden and too deep to be merely sleep. Waking hours later, I saw a new light in her eyes that I couldn’t define. 

It shouldn’t have surprised me that as soon as I had her figured out, she’d changed like a chameleon to lead me on yet another mad chase. I gathered her close in my arms, both of us content to let the day pass us by. 

Eventually, we had roused ourselves, cleaned up and returned to our lives. I didn’t know how I felt; I still don’t know how I feel. All I know is that I’m already eagerly awaiting our next opportunity to be together again. Let the rest of the world go to Hell; it matters very little to me now. 

Only she matters. 


	4. Magical Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is more than meets the eye.

Chapter 4  
Magical Savior

25th, June

I think I had always known it would happen. That Albus would make the request of me I had, all those years ago, gratefully and eagerly promised I would do. I had promised him, knowing I had just bought myself time to heal, to reassess the meaning of my life. But, even as we both optimistically told ourselves it might never happen, I think we both knew it was inevitable, knowing the Dark Lord as we did.

The Potter boy had returned from his disappearance after completing the third task of the tournament with a tale no one wanted to believe. But when he described it, there could be no doubt in my mind that what he’d claimed was true.

_He_ was back.

He’d been brought back with the help of that pestilent boil on a warthog’s backside, Pettigrew, and by using Potter’s blood, was probably stronger than he’d been years ago.

It hadn’t come as a total surprise. The burning mark on my arm had begun to make its presence known in a most annoying manner, these past few months. In a fit of denial, I’d tried to convince myself that one of my former dark colleagues had figured out how to tap into it, had tried to take over where the Dark Lord had left off. But such a wizard doesn’t exist who could out-think that madman. Even Albus had never been able to figure out how these marks worked.

Wouldn’t it have been a different world if he’d been able to do so? He could have summoned each and every Death Eater alive, and lured them into a trap. If they’d all been imprisoned, then Pettigrew would have been among them in Azkaban, and would never have been able to assist his master in his rebirth.

But then, I would never have been given the opportunity to repay my debt to Albus. To the only wizard alive who would have given me the chance to come to my senses and try for a new life.

I had done things I could never forgive myself for; the world will never know of many of them, even were Albus to turn his back on me and reveal my treachery to one and all. He knew he didn’t know everything; yet he’d taken me into his protection and had provided me with work. Never mind it wasn’t the work I had sought--teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts--it was honorable work, and I need to remind myself of that every time I feel bitter about his engaging someone else for that coveted position.

I would have spent the rest of my life feeling indebted to him, if not for Potter’s revelations last night. Even as the lead ball of fear lodged itself deep within me, I felt lighter than air as Albus had turned to me and asked if I was prepared to do what he must ask me to do.

I agreed without hesitation. If I survived the night, if I handled it right, then I would no longer feel I had so much to make up for. I would be square with Albus. To hell with the rest of the world; what had it ever done for me?

And so I had gone to the Dark Lord. I had crawled to him, meekly accepting my punishment for not having arrived with the others, hours before. But, had I remembered just how painful his temper tantrums could be, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone so willingly. I’m not a masochist. And he was brutal, in his newfound energy. When I was sure the top of my head would blow off, and everything inside my body would be splayed against the walls of the old house, he’d finally lifted the curse he’d sent my way.

I struggled to shield my emotions from him as I lay there, gasping, with every breath, every twitch feeling like razor blades coursing my flesh. Like the obedient lapdog I was supposed to be, I thanked him for releasing me from the pain. I suffered his laughter as he graciously allowed me time to recover from the most intense of the aftereffects of that horrible curse.

But he hadn’t finished with me. He demanded an explanation for my tardiness, and the reason I hadn’t tried to search for him these last several years. I had these excuses ready, and schooled my voice not to betray my hatred and fear as I answered.

I told him I had, in fact, tried to search for him, but searching wasn’t my forte. I put the proper amount of shame into my thoughts, and allowed him to probe with his Legilimency. I explained that I had managed to secure a teaching position at Hogwarts, working under Dumbledore. I earnestly conveyed to him that, by convincing Dumbledore I had renounced the Dark Ways, I could be trusted with the headmaster’s secrets. I ended by saying I had come to him that night to impart what information I could, to assure him I was still his servant, and now in a better position to aid his quest.

I could tell he believed me; he never would allow that anyone just might have Occlumency skills to rival his own. By the end of our meeting, he was convinced it had been his own idea for me to go to Hogwarts, to convince Dumbledore I would be willing to spy for him. Such a brilliant plan could only come from the mind of the Great Dark Lord.

Still, even in his happiness, he had to have the last word. Just before he Disapparated me back to the Forbidden Forest, he hit me with a final Cruciatus, and this one lasted long after I’d fallen to the ground before the gates of Hogwarts.

It had taken me most of the night to work my way back to my chambers. The pain was shooting through my abused body so intensely that I could take only one step at a time. I had planned on going to the hospital wing, to ask Poppy for certain potions which would take away the worst of it, but when I looked up that huge set of stairs that would take me there, I gave up and decided it was easier to fall down the stairs to my dungeon rooms than it would be to climb upward.

It was almost dawn before I could fall face-down upon my bed, wishing I could smother because I lacked the energy to move my face from my pillow. I think I blacked out, because the room was brighter when I became aware of soothing hands brushing my hair from my face.

Olivia had come to me. Of all the people I would have liked to avoid while I was so weak and in pain, it was she who had to find me this way. If I’d had the strength, I would have sobbed at the raw feeling of exposure I’d felt then.

But the feeling didn’t last. As she spoke soft words I couldn’t understand, she gently moved me around until I was fully prone on the bed she’d somehow charmed to be softer, the blankets covering me. Her touch, although pain-inducing at first, began to soothe away the jolting aftershocks of the curse that had so drained me.

She knew more than I would have expected her to know. She knew, for instance, that it had been the Cruciatus, and she knew how painful it had been for me. She knew, I realized, where I’d been and why. I didn’t question her knowledge; I was thankful for it. I couldn’t have spoken to save my life just then, but I didn’t have to, and I allowed myself to relax under her magical hands.

She’d warmed the room somehow; probably a heating charm chanted before I’d come to. I felt her pull the blanket up around my shoulders, and it felt so good that I didn’t care I was still fully-clothed, shoes and all. I was still so much more comfortable than I would have been without her. But even as I had thought about it, my clothes had disappeared. She’d magicked them away, and I basked in the smoothness of the sheets under and over me, the heaviness of the quilt that pressed upon my overly sensitized skin. I felt the weight of her as she sat near my hip on the bed, and sighed deeply as I again felt her fingers running through my hair. She was putting me to sleep. I had nearly nodded off when I became aware of what she was doing.

She hadn’t merely been comforting me; she had been healing me. Her touch had been taking away the pain that had engaged every nerve cell in me. I concentrated, and was astounded to realize that, where she had touched me, the pain was gone. From her hands, I felt a gentle heat that seemed to connect with a heat inside me, and as the two forces combined, the pain left my body.

Wondering why I had never seen wings upon her back, I knew then this was not just one of your everyday-garden-variety-seen-one-seen-them-all witches. There was something about her that put her above anyone else I’d met, and that included Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. At that moment, I became convinced her sole purpose for coming to Hogwarts was to be my guardian angel.

Her hands began to massage my shoulders, and as the sharp twinges of pain left me, I could appreciate the more normal physical release of tension. Not being accustomed to physical contact from any source, I was never really aware of how good it felt just to be touched. As her wonderful hands moved over me, the tension in my muscles was replaced by a heaviness that was so profound, I don’t believe I could have moved had I wanted to.

I gave myself permission to fall asleep if I must, calculating that it was probably no more than she had expected. I closed my eyes, but although sleep hovered nearby, it didn’t touch me. I suppose I denied much needed sleep for fear I would miss out on this incredible feeling of security she was giving me, and I wanted every second of it.

I felt a golden warmth seep through my shoulders and arms as she lightly caressed them, her touch becoming slowly more insistent, until she was kneading knots of tension from my abused muscles. I sighed as she retraced the path up my arms back to my shoulders. Each touch was sweeter than the last.

She extended her hand movements down my back, pushing away the blanket as she progressed, and I began to get a mental image of clouds, so helpfully supporting me as I floated indifferently down from the heavens. It seemed to me that the weight of my body was increasing, as I relaxed ever more into the bed; I became aware my breathing was becoming deeper and slower.

I was beginning to forget the agonizing pain I had brought with me to my chambers in that early predawn hour as her miracle-inducing hands soothed away the results of the Dark Lord’s wrath and warning. The only pain left in me now was in my legs, and it wasn’t so severe as it had been before Olivia came to me. Perhaps it was the certainty that she would soon alleviate every last trace of it which allowed me to imagine the edge was taken off.

I felt her hands moving down to my hips, to my lower back, and I became aware of a new energy I could feel inside of me, even as I approached restorative sleep. From the waist up, at any rate, I was feeling stronger, younger, than I had before meeting with that evil wizard in the night.

Wondering what rejuvenating potion she’d applied to her hands, I sighed deeply, wishing I could bottle this feeling of euphoria, so I could relive this time again and again. I knew better than to assume Olivia would always be there for me.

I moaned almost silently as her hands lightly moved over my rear, continuing downward over my legs until she’d reached my feet. As she reversed her direction and began moving upward again, there seemed to be a new potency in her hands. She’d increased her pressure, much as she had while working on my shoulders and back, and I realized what a difference in effect it had on me. By the time she again reached my thighs, her touch was so sensual that I’d had to stealthily shift my hips in order to accommodate my body’s reaction. I didn’t know whether or not she was purposely trying to induce such a response, or if I was simply behaving like my normal, depraved self. I didn’t know what she had in mind; I felt I should choose between ignoring my physical response and allowing her to continue her hands’ incredible journey over my body, or end one heaven to enter another.

As her fingers softly moved high on my inner thighs, I gasped, pulling up one knee in a reflex action, to give her more room to explore as well as lifting my throbbing erection from its confinement against the mattress. There could be no mistaking her intention now, as she cupped my balls in her clever hand, her touch sending a jolt of excitement throughout my newly-repaired body.

I no longer felt the heavy fatigue of utterly relaxed muscles and nerves. A new tension had taken over my being, and I rolled over to my back, pulling her up so I could lavish my gratitude and attention over her lips, so I could feel the locks of her long hair trickling down over my chest, and through my fingers.

“Your clothes, Olivia...” I murmured. “Get rid of your clothes.”

I felt her lips smile against my throat and in a heartbeat, I was able to feel her warm, soft flesh against mine. So rapturous was this feeling that I am, even now, able to recall every detail, every touch, every move either of us made, so that I can put the words into this journal for later perusal. I could read these words, I’m sure, twenty years from now, and put myself back into her arms, as if time didn’t exist.

She moved herself slowly, torturously down my chest. I could feel her hard nipples dragging across my heated flesh, could feel the relative coolness of her breasts against my hard cock, as it throbbed in anticipation of her caress. As her hair feathered over the ticklish skin of my hips, she moved her lips over my belly, to where my muscles dipped at the sensation. I closed my eyes, moaning, as she played her tongue around the base of my cock, as if testing my reaction. I felt her trace a line from the base upward, finding the most sensitive route, to where I was seeping pre-cum. My body knew what was coming, and I panted out my breath as I reached out to either side of me, needing to hold onto something to keep me rooted to earth. I mindlessly gripped each side of my bed in my fists as she pushed my legs apart and settled in. At the thought of her making herself comfortable there, as if prepared to spend the rest of the day doing exactly what she was doing then, I groaned in surrender, wondering how long it would be before forces beyond my control threw her down in my place so I could have my way with her.

I looked down to where she was playing, and it brought to my mind an image of a hot summer’s day, and a memory of watching a young girl enjoying a frozen snack that had been threatening to melt before she could finish it. Compared to what Olivia was doing, that girl couldn’t have enjoyed her snack with such relish as I witnessed in my own bed that morning.

Oh, gods, the feeling of her tongue rolling over and around my cock! My pathetic attempt to put it into words falls ever short of the erotic intensity that enveloped my being. I had briefly worried I might begin to hyperventilate as she sucked me into her mouth, and every nerve ending in my body was concentrated upon the throbbing and burning part of my anatomy that she was worshipping. I felt my balls pull up tight as she slowly withdrew, my eyes bulging as she hummed against me. It was more than I could bear.

Releasing my death-grip on the mattress, I pulled her up by her upper arms until she was sitting astride me. Using one hand to guide myself into her, I used my other hand on her hip to encourage her to take me.

Ohhh, she was so wet, her hot juices making it easy to slip into her quivering tightness. She settled down upon me, bracing herself with her hands on my chest. I took her hips in both my hands then, and conducted her movements upon me as a maestro would lead his orchestra.

For it was music we were making together; music we would not hear, except for the rasp of our hoarse, excited voices calling out to each other in amazement and encouragement. Music that spurred each of us on as we fed each other’s ecstasy. I could feel something inside building, could feel it climb higher and higher as she rode me, our movements so perfectly synchronized.

As I write this now, I open my fly simply to relieve the pressure as my body remembers how she shifted her hips slightly, and I could feel my cock hit something deeper inside her, feeling her body’s temperature instantly climb, tightening even more around me. I watched the passion take over her features as she increased her pace; I moaned in harmony with her as my hips began to buck against her, in time with the rhythm to which she moved.

Gasping out loud, I placed my hand where her clit would hit my thumb with each of her downward thrusts, and was rewarded with the sight of her throwing the last of her control away. She became a shouting, thrashing, and demonic confusion of pure sexual power as she sought her release. My balls pulled up tight, and I gripped her hips as I forcefully thrust up, striving to bury myself so deeply inside of her I’d never find my way back out.

I love the memory of the sound of her voice calling out my name, just as she spasmodically clenched around me, over and over again as she rode out her climax. Even as her trembling arms worked to keep her sitting upright, I forcefully pulled her down to my chest, wrapping my arms around her as I exploded inside her, pushing in so deep as all my insides were seemingly pulled from me into her.

I smoothed my hands over her back, combing her hair with my fingers, as we waited for our breathing to return to normal. She slowly pushed herself up on her arms, which were still trembling, to look down into my face. The light in her eyes was warm and satisfied as she smiled at me.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked me.

As Merlin was my witness, I didn’t know how to answer her. I had never known such limitless boundaries of feeling before having met her. I could never presume to guess where limits might be. _Was_ I feeling all right?

I knew no pain. The meeting I’d had with the Dark Lord was a fading memory. Only with the most intense concentration was I able to describe to Albus, a few hours later, how the meeting had gone. I wasn’t tired, either; not in the worn-out sense. A pleasant fatigue was overtaking my body, and it was, in my opinion, the best way to fall asleep. I could only hope she would stay with me, sharing my bed and my dreams.

I don’t think I ever answered her, but perhaps she’d seen something in my eyes that satisfied her question. She’d moved to lie next to me, helping me arrange the blanket over the both of us, and when I awoke, hours later, she was still with me.

I knew then I would be able to face the Dark Lord again; that I’d be able to settle my account with Albus. I began to feel that perhaps I could atone for my past sins.

I know now why children laugh at nothing; why people in pain and living in fear can still smile. I know  
Olivia...


	5. Unforgivable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Severus crossed the line?

Chapter 5  
Unforgivable

2nd, July

It’s been one hell of a year...

So many things have been happening; I still feel as though I can’t draw a breath without having to hold it, waiting for the next cataclysmic upset.

In the past year, those rare times I’d felt things had slowed down enough to sit here before this journal and collect my thoughts, I had closed it before writing anything. I couldn’t seem to find words, couldn’t find motivation to organize my thoughts. It had been such a depressing year, and I’m afraid little has happened to change that.

Things had started out to be promising; Albus had brought me into the Order of the Phoenix, thus validating my claim of loyalty to the rest. However, my hopes of being accepted once and for all went for naught; I had the distinct impression those holier-than-thou, second-rate wizards tolerated my presence only as a courtesy to Albus. It did not endear me to them, and as the year progressed, I simply reported what must be reported. I never stayed long enough for social and meaningless chit-chat, and never dined among them. I would always prefer my own company to that of a group of mostly Gryffindor has-beens, who might have had the desire to rid the world of the Dark Lord, but lacked the skills.

I had a brief period of what could almost be called optimism when we at Hogwarts were graced with the company of Dolores Umbridge. She wasn’t her mother’s brightest child, and so, with my natural Slytherin logic, I had thought to put myself in her good graces, just enough so that she would put in a few good words about me to the Ministry.

No such luck, I had soon realized when she audited my class. The miserable wench had the audacity to gloat, pointing out the number of times I had tried, and failed, to secure the position of DADA Master. By the end of the class, I was almost relieved to know it would do no good for me to suck up to her. She was an obnoxious, unctuous she-beast, and I began to enjoy the little incidents happening around the castle that got on her nerves.

Still, I had to be careful she couldn’t complain, with any degree of certainty, that I was being obstructive in her efforts. She couldn’t know, for instance, that the Veritaserum I had prepared for her use to interrogate Potter was no more potent than weak tea, or that I had the skills necessary to deal with out-of-control fireworks or swampland. I felt she could damn well earn her own brownie points from the Ministry in successfully running the school in Albus’ absence. I must admit, I do feel that if she could have controlled the Weasley twins and that Potter gang, then she would have deserved the Order of Merlin.

Other than the annoying interference of that frumpy witch who sought power and authority only for the sake of having it, I had thought I could escape most of the turmoil by simply avoiding everyone. But of course, every time I’d tried that in the past, the Fates had banded together to mock me.

Albus asked—nay, ordered—me to teach that Potter brat how to employ Occlumency to prevent the Dark Lord from gaining any secrets to which the little miscreant might have access. I had done my best to beg off, reminding Albus of how I felt about Potter, but he explained why it had been essential to limit his own exposure to the boy. Once the Dark Lord found out what was happening, he could actually possess the boy long enough to infiltrate the mind of Albus himself.

With that reasoning, and with everything that was, or could have been, at stake, I had no choice. Were I to refuse, it would be the same as handing over secrets to that evil wizard on a silver platter. And so, my tutoring of Potter began.

I’m not the most patient nor forgiving wizard in the world; I admit that openly and without shame. I hate the boy. Looking into his eyes in order to delve into his emotions and memories, I could have been looking into his mother’s eyes. All the years had melted away, but had left the pain and humiliation of my school years for me to relive.

True to form, it had only taken a few moments of carelessness, and Potter stole a look into my Pensieve…into my life. I knew what memories I had temporarily stored there. This pampered brat had witnessed the despair of my childhood; he’d watched blatantly as my school years proved nothing had changed for me.

My only consolation was that he’d seen his father hadn’t been the noble hero all boys wish their fathers were. My immediate reaction to finding him there was anticipation of his gloating. I’d guessed that he’d known all along what insufferable pricks that band of hoodlums were, and had no doubt aspired to be just like his father.

I had almost wavered in that opinion later on, however. I must now confess I’d acted most rashly, causing him injury as I’d flung him away from the Pensieve. I realize now how violently I’d gripped his arm, and I have to give him credit; he hadn’t gone crying to Albus about my rough treatment of him. And, looking back, remembering his features as I’d flung him about my office, I believe he truly did feel sorry for having invaded my privacy in such a way.

But at the time, I’d been beside myself with rage. I had finally found a situation with which I knew I couldn’t cope. The only thing I could do was to forbid him to ever enter my office again; there would, of course, be no more Occlumency lessons. He didn’t argue, as he hadn’t enjoyed those lessons any more than had I.

I had waited for Albus to corner me as soon as he’d found out I had ceased tutoring Potter in those lessons. However, once the dementors had left Azkaban, allowing all those in the Dark Lord’s service to escape, we all had other things to worry about. I don’t mean to imply Potter’s skills in Occlumency weren’t crucial; on the contrary, it was more important than ever that he block his emotions, his dreams. But everything was happening at once. Even Albus has his limitations. And so, Potter and I had both gotten away with it.

I had rearranged my schedule to accommodate those lessons; now that those evenings were free, I had become more and more aware of how long it had been since I’d been able to spend any time with Olivia. If ever I needed a soft shoulder to lean on, gentle fingers soothing the cares away from me, it was as we prepared for the impending war with the Dark Lord and his minions.

But day after day, night after night, I had waited in vain. I would sit at the staff table in the Great Hall, pushing around food I didn’t want, and stare across the hall at her empty seat. I would hover like a vulture around the fourth floor corridor, waiting for the last of her students to leave her classroom before I’d dart in, hoping to corner her. Always, I had found the room empty, she having chosen a different exit. I cannot count the number of times I’d searched the sixth floor, hoping for a clue as to where her rooms were hidden; twice, I’d ended up lost, and once, I’d found myself coming out of an obscure doorway near the Astronomy Tower. As well as I thought I knew this castle, it was beyond my powers to find her.

The more desperately I had searched, the more frustrated and obsessed I had become. While I should have been concentrating on the hell breaking loose in the world outside of Hogwarts, as well as the purgatory within, I was instead putting all my energies into tracking down that exasperating, ephemeral nymph who had woven such a binding spell over me that nothing mattered but her touch, her voice, her heat.

As before, when I was at my lowest point of despair, feeling as though all the loneliness I’d felt in the past was nothing compared to my new level, I saw her lingering in the corridor of the dungeon just outside my office door. I’d had to stop myself, standing motionless, until I was sure I could proceed without breaking into a run.

Olivia had turned to watch my approach, and my heart had skipped a beat to see her smile a warm greeting. At last, my own kindred spirit had come to offer solace to me. For I knew she must have been at least as lonely as I; when I’d questioned some of the others, no one seemed to know where she was. They’d only looked oddly at me, and I had begun to wonder if her rooms were indeed in the castle. Perhaps she lived outside the grounds after all, and merely commuted each day? No one had seemed able to shed any light on the subject. She seemed to avoid forging friendships among the staff as much as I.

As I neared her, I saw Draco Malfoy approaching from the opposite direction, a look of intent purpose on his face. He ignored Olivia and headed over to me, and as he explained Umbridge’s urgent need to see me, I had so wanted to strangle the message-bearer.

She offered me a look of commiseration as I bowed to the inevitable. It wouldn’t do for a force such as Umbridge to find fault with me now. If she were to cause my removal from Hogwarts, while Albus was not here to speak up for me, I might never see Olivia again. Holding her gaze as I walked past her to follow Draco, I mutely begged her to hang around until I could make my escape. I couldn’t tell if she’d understood my unspoken message.

The toad had wanted more Veritaserum, and I had put her off, knowing she couldn’t brew it herself. All I’d wanted was to be left alone to pursue other matters. But Potter had been in her custody, and he’d warned me of Black’s capture. No matter how I felt about Black, I knew if I had ignored this plea for help, Albus would never forgive me.

And so, with a heavy heart, I had delayed my return to the dungeon until I could gain entry into Albus’ office and send out warning to as many Order members as I could. By the time I had returned to Umbridge’s office to see what she was doing with those interfering brats, they’d gone into the forest, searching for something Granger had hinted at.

I hadn’t known what their game had been, but when they hadn’t returned after what seemed a long time, I felt I should go out and search for them. Albus had beat me to it, though all he’d found was Umbridge, who’d gone almost catatonic over her ordeal with the unforgiving centaurs. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving witch.

By the time that fiasco at the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries had settled, and our immediate worries were contained, I only had thoughts of flopping down for a well-deserved sleep. I had entered my rooms, looking around hopefully to see if Olivia had chosen to wait for me, but to no avail. My rooms were as empty as I felt.

There was nothing else for it, I had thought as I grabbed for the bottle of Ogden’s Old. I’d sat before my fireplace, staring into its flames, drinking my way to oblivion. It would be the only way I’d get any sleep that night, I knew from past experience.

It had been some time later when I’d awoken, still uncomfortably stretched out on the sofa, the empty bottle broken on the floor next to my dangling hand. I’d struggled to hear and feel everything around me; something had awoken me, and I’d wondered, through my self-induced fog, if yet another catastrophe had found its persistent way into my worthless life.

Sure something was indeed amiss, I sat up, searching the shadows of my sitting room. There had been no one about, and I’d glanced down at the broken glass on the floor before the sofa. I decided to leave it for the morning. In my drunken state, I feared I would sever an artery in my clumsy attempt to clean it up. I knew better than to try to use my wand, drunk as I had been.

I’d pushed myself away from the sofa, concentrating on putting one foot before the other until I could collapse upon my bed. Too drunk to remove my clothing, I had felt it would still be a bit more dignified than sprawling bonelessly over my sofa.

My next thoughts were befuddled, either by incredible longing or alcoholic haze; I couldn’t tell. She was there. She was lying quietly on my bed, her wavy hair spread across my pillow, her obviously naked body barely concealed beneath the thinnest blanket. She’d slowly raised herself up, leaning back against her arms, allowing the blanket to fall away. I had choked up as my throat swallowed nothing; my mouth was dry.

I’m forcing my memory to go back to that night, to bring back in vivid detail everything that had gone through my pickled brain when I saw her there. A very difficult task indeed; most of the blood had left my brain to take up residence elsewhere, but I do remember lust was not the only passion coursing through my veins.

I had been outraged.

Yes, outraged that she would come and go so selfishly, toying with my emotions and desires; embittered that I needed her so; angry that just her appearance in my line of sight could bring about such an instantaneous physical reaction.

I was exhausted; worn out from constantly schooling my features to show nothing of what I felt to the world around me; tired of facing everything alone, and done in with the frightening roller coaster ride this witch had me locked aboard. The whiskey, having taken away any will I had left to control myself, spurred me on as I almost threw myself on her, knocking her back down to lie beneath me.

Mumbling into the curve of her neck, I knew she hadn’t heard the words I’d used. Otherwise, she most likely wouldn’t have wrapped her arms around me, pulling me tightly against her. Her surprise was genuine as the bindings I’d placed around her wrists and ankles tightened, and she cried out in alarm as she was spread out and secured to each post of my bed.

I pulled back from her then, ripping the blanket away from the bed, allowing her to feel the exposure as I, still fully clothed, gazed leisurely up and down at her vulnerable beauty. I could see her pulse beating a fast tempo in the delicate column of her throat. Her breasts--nipples hard, whether from the chill of the room or from passion, it made no difference--rose and fell quickly, betraying her nervousness. Her legs twitched against their taut bindings, as if testing how much slack there might be. It was an exercise in futility; I’d not left her much room, if escape was what she’d been considering.

Her eyes were unreadable. As always, there was a light in them I could never define. This night was no exception. It could be playfulness; it could be fear. I don’t believe I cared which it was. I pulled off my robes, my eyes trained on hers as I tossed them away. I could see she was trying to meet my stare, but as I slowly began to unbutton my frock coat, one button at a time, her eyes kept darting to my hands before returning to meet my unrelenting gaze.

I didn’t have a plan; I simply allowed myself to do what my body dictated. The only sound in the room was the distant crackling of the fire in the sitting room grate, and the labored breathing of the beauty tied down to my bed. As if becoming aware of the thought at precisely the same time as I, she fought to steady her breathing, to quiet it. Perhaps she didn’t want to give me the satisfaction that I was scaring her.

No matter. It merely allowed a thicker silence to descend, and I used a bit more movement than was absolutely necessary in order for her to actually hear each button giving way under my fingers. As her eyes moved from my hands to my eyes, back and forth, again and again, there was no doubt in my mind she knew she was under my control, and I knew she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

When at last I ran out of buttons on my coat, I shrugged it off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor at my feet. She couldn’t help but follow the movement, but my stare never left her eyes. Waiting for the two seconds it took for her to return her gaze to mine, I held her there visually, and brought my arms up in front of me so her peripheral vision would see me painstakingly undoing my cufflinks, tossing them in the general direction of my nightstand, and letting the sleeves fall down over my hands as I dropped my arms to my sides.

But only for a moment. When she again met my look, I reached up to the high collar of my shirt, repeating the pattern over my buttons, making sure I took as much time as I could, there being so many more buttons than my coat had provided. When I could not reach the next button because my shirt was tucked into my trousers, I paused long enough for her eyes to come back up to mine.

Sneering, and without hurrying at all, I pulled my shirt free, letting it drop around my hips before once more finding the buttons. Only three left; I drew it out as long as I could, and by the time my shirt was fully opened, I had to hide my triumphant smile as her breath hitched in, as her legs twitched against her invisible, velvet bonds.

Catching her off-guard, I quickly ripped the shirt away from my body, laughing audibly at her surprised gasp before tossing it behind me to land somewhere in a darkened corner of the room. I took two small steps closer to the bed, and my erection shifted in my trousers as she instinctively tried to hitch herself away from me.

I stood still, watching her breasts rise and fall with her breathing, letting her wonder why I’d moved closer. At a snail’s pace, I lifted my hand to my fly, lazily pulling apart one button at a time, my restraint easy in the wake of her uneasiness. The room had begun to grow darker during this time, and I paused in my task to dim the lanterns even more, allowing her only quick glimpses of what I was doing.

Pulling apart the material because it made more noise than simply unbuttoning my fly, I continued until it was fully open. I knew she could see I was wearing boxers. That much, even the dimmer light showed her. I reached down, stooping slightly to remove one boot, tossing it over the bed to fall heavily to the floor on the other side of her. Again, she shifted away from me, as if she’d thought I’d thrown it at her.

I moved to stand at the side of the bed, in line with her hips. Letting several tense seconds pass, I turned and sat on the bed next to her, briefly running my hand gently over her trembling thigh, moving my fingers up toward her heat. Fear or lust, it mattered not; she was wet, anticipating my touch. She let out her breath in a rush as my fingers teasingly traced a path through the curls hiding her steaming secrets.

I slowly took my hand away from her, sitting so still she couldn’t have known what I would do next. After hearing the soft moan hidden in her sigh, I quickly removed my other boot and dropped it on the floor at my feet. Standing and turning to face her once again, I allowed her nervousness to build to a higher level as I contemplated my next move.

I began to move my hand over the front of my boxers, rubbing myself as she watched. I learned something new about myself that night--as long as I could keep her guessing, I could keep a tight rein on my actions. I could draw this out all night, if I chose to do so, and as I touched myself, I imagined how it would sound to hear her begging me for attention, imploring me to take her. At this, a low moan escaped my own throat, and at her answering gasp, I grabbed at my cock right through my boxers, suddenly no longer sure I had any control over myself at all.

Breathing deeply, struggling to regain some of the restraint I’d lost, I put my hand flat on my stomach, enticing her as my fingers crept, inch by inch, below the waistband to grope the stiff rod underneath. I began to stroke myself, the movement apparent beneath the silk, and as her tongue came out to wet her lips, I felt my own breathing quicken.

“Oh, gods, Severus...end this torture!” she cried out passionately, startling me.

One side of my mouth had curled up in amusement and victory, and I put both my thumbs into my waistband, waiting until I was sure her eyes were trained upon them, then slowly pulled down my trousers and boxers, allowing my cock to bob freely. When my pants were loosely falling past my knees, I kicked them both away and stood silently before her, almost feeling the heat of her gaze on my throbbing erection. Her hands clenched into fists, and I flattered myself to imagine she wanted to grasp me, to stroke me, and my cock twitched in appreciation.

I stepped on the toe of one sock, anchoring it to the floor so I could pull my foot out of it. Leaving it where it was, I did the same to the other. I moved slowly closer to the bed until I bumped into it with my knees, almost chuckling aloud at her reaction. It was almost as if I had touched her. I lifted one knee to rest upon the mattress, teasing her with my proximity. So close, and yet she couldn’t lift a finger to touch me. Leaning over her very slightly, I allowed my hips to get just a bit closer to her. What a powerful aphrodisiac a woman’s lust could be to a man who’d never become accustomed to the wanton attentions of a lover.

She fought against her ties, straining to sit up, to reach me with her lips, since her hands were too far away from me. At the memory of what her lips felt like upon my hardened tool, I groaned, my hips reaching forward without any conscious thought from me, and she took me by surprise as she at once wrapped those hot and wet lips around me, her tongue swirling over my pre-cum drizzled head.

I threw back my head, my shaking voice moaning out my momentary surrender to the beams above. She didn’t give me time to regain my senses, and like a wild woman, she sucked deep and hard. Since she couldn’t get nearer to me, she plotted to get me nearer to her. And it worked; I fell forward, bracing my hands against the headboard as I gave myself to her mouth, to her tongue, to her teeth that nibbled maddeningly over my pulsating flesh.

“Oh, yes...ah, gods, Olivia...” I pushed into her mouth, losing my mind, and clearly catching her unaware. As I hit the back of her throat, she gagged, and I pulled away quickly, shamefully startled back to my senses.

This was not what I’d had in mind.

I moved myself away from her tempting mouth, and settled down on my haunches between her outstretched legs. Reaching forward, I put my hands on hers, and her nails dug into the backs of my hands as she gripped my fingers with hers. I forcefully pulled my hands down from hers, feeling the bindings under my palms. Putting enough pressure in my touch to remind her who was controlling this experience, I pulled my hands slowly down her arms, over her shoulders, until I could grab her breasts.

Not easing up, I squeezed and shaped her breasts in my hands, and each gasp, each moan I dragged out of her sent a corresponding jolt of excitement to my balls. Oh, what euphoria to my ears and my libido to hear her already begging me to take her, to fuck her senseless. She was talking dirty to me, and I never would have imagined how erotic it would be to hear those words from her lips.

I rubbed my thumbs lightly over her hard nipples even as I threatened to leave bruises upon her tender breasts, and I could feel the heat from her sex scorching my legs. I let go of her swollen breasts and moved my hands down her quivering belly, and over her hips. She was so petite that my hands almost completely covered her thighs as I blazed a path over them, making sure I used a lighter touch with my thumbs on her inner thighs.

As I moved upward, following the same trail, I lightened my touch slightly, ignoring her bush and wet folds completely. When I had again reached her breasts, I gently smoothed my hands over them, my palms teasing her nipples, soothing away the soreness I’d caused on my first pass over them. The rest of her body had been tossing around by then; she implored me to take her, to plunge deeply inside her to end this abuse.

I sent my hands back up her arms, back to her hands, and, again, I retraced my path downward. When I reached her breasts once more, I leaned over her so that my mouth and lips could tease her pebble-like nipples. As I gently nipped at them, she became much more demanding in her begging.

“Gods, Severus, why do you do this? Why do you hold back? I want to feel you pounding into me, fucking me in a frenzy! Ohhhh…now, Severus…please, now!”

I had to shut my eyes then and concentrate on the Wizengamot Panel’s Declaration of Wizards’ and Witches’ Rights. On the procedure for eliminating rust stains from old cauldrons. Even to the mental image of the mating habits of trolls. Anything to avoid following her instructions. When I once again felt I could continue, in spite of her passionate pleas for mercy, I used my tongue to draw a line down her belly, moving my lips softly over her curls until I was right where we both wanted me to be.

I used my tongue to part her swollen nether lips, to taste her sweetness and heat. I felt her legs tense up on either side of my head, and when her hips began thrashing under my mouth, I gripped them hard, holding her fast as I kept to my own pace between her legs. Pulling her hard little nub into my mouth, I pushed my lips hard against her, my cock almost bursting with neglect as I felt her body begin to shatter with her sudden orgasm.

Purposely not easing up, I ruthlessly forced her to ride wave upon wave, happy to find she was multiorgasmic, and soon she was begging me to stop, to let her come down. One more then, I decided, and I thrust two fingers inside her, searching, as my tongue once again pushed her beyond what she thought she could handle.

She was dripping wet by then, and I stretched out over her, moving my body over hers in such a way as to produce maximum contact, knowing her every nerve was so near the surface of her skin that my breath alone created sensations in her that she’d never known before.

As I rubbed my hard-enough-to-cut-diamonds cock around her sizzling wetness, I could feel her trying to grip my hips with her legs; could hear her swearing because her legs were still bound. I captured her lips with mine, regretting the loss of her speech, but enjoying the tongue-fuck I was giving her. I knew she could taste herself, and the knowledge that she would rather have tasted me instead gave me a small measure of control once again.

Oh, the ecstatic pleasure of teasing…

Wondering if I could maintain a semblance of this control once I entered her, I pushed in, and immediately, her body clenched around me. Pure folly -- the idea of control -- and I knew I was beyond rational thought from that point on. I shot my hips forward, plunging deep, releasing her lips from mine so we could both gasp out our breath. I was aware of every inch of her body that touched mine; I rubbed my chest over hers with every thrust, felt the sharp bones of my hips banging onto hers each time I pumped myself into her, harder and harder with each stroke.

“Olivia...oh...oh...ohhh...yesss...Olivia...so hot...so wet...” My words became a mindless mantra as I pounded into her. Her bindings no longer seemed to hold her back as she used them to brace herself so she could strain up to meet me, to take me higher.

I levered myself up on my arms so that I could penetrate more deeply, certain I could reach a depth that would soothe the beast inside me, as well as the wild animal under me, her body feverishly assaulting me as I ravaged her.

Oh, yes, I was almost there. She was right there with me, each move I made met by her countermove, and as I felt her volcanic heat clench around me, burning me, I lifted my face to the heavens that had sent her to me to call out my gratitude as she sobbed out in yet another burst of convulsions, gripping me as if with a velvet-lined iron fist. One final thrust and I exploded inside her as she milked me of everything I had, my hips bucking as though touched by a dark curse, uncontrolled by me.

I collapsed on top of her, shuddering with my release, and I groaned out the last of my energy as she clenched around my overly-sensitive, abused, and spent cock.

I knew I should have moved, I should have withdrawn from her so that she could at least take a deep breath. I should have removed the bindings from her limbs so she could recover from this onslaught of inebriated lust, but as Merlin was my witness, I just couldn’t find the energy.

I don’t believe I had fallen asleep so much as I had blacked out, but when I came to, daylight was coming in through the high windows, telling me that I’d slept away most of the morning. Thanking the gods that it was Saturday, and I hadn’t shamefully missed anything important, I rolled over to find my bed empty.

I knew I had not released her; she had to have been rescued by someone I’d never be able to face again, or had somehow magicked away her own bindings. Somehow, I doubted the latter; wouldn’t she have done so in her blinding moments of need?

As I dragged myself to my bathroom to soak my head in cool water, I worried that she hadn’t so much left as escaped. Could it be that I had destroyed any future chance of happiness with my imperial and threatening behavior of the night?

She’d torn at the bindings so feverishly at times; had she been injured? Drawn blood? Looking into the mirror, I saw an ogre staring back, and I knew that what was left of my sanity would not last long if I’d have to wait endlessly to see her again, to know what was going through her mind that morning.

Forcing myself to join the living, I’d searched for her throughout the day, afraid to ask anyone else if they’d seen her. I had no way of knowing who she might have complained to, and the very idea of any of my fellow staff members knowing what I did in the privacy of my own rooms was upsetting, to say the least.

Wanting to throw myself into the lake and put myself at the mercy of the giant squid, I was again forced to wait until she condescended to seek out my company.

If ever she would…


	6. Spinner's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia warns Severus about obscure dangers in his future.

Chapter 6  
Spinner’s End

1st, July

I have survived another meeting with that evil manifestation who still seems to have the need, or possibly the lack of foresight, to trust me. I suppose I should be thankful that he still considers me necessary and trustworthy enough to refrain from ending my life, but it’s getting more and more difficult to find a reason to go on. I know now that things will get much darker before I’ll see light again.

I’m at home again. I call it home, but only for lack of a better term. I have, in years past, found many reasons to avoid coming here, preferring to stay on at Hogwarts instead. There’s something compelling about that old castle when there are no students about. But I had no choice this year. I have been ordered to return here by the one I had, once upon a time, looked to as my master.

The worst thing about being in this situation has been the certainty that I will not have a snowball’s chance in hell of seeing Olivia. It had been difficult enough to gain her attention at Hogwarts; she has no way of contacting me here, other than sending an Owl. As she had never communicated with me in such a way in the past, I had no reason to hope for such a gesture now.

To add insult to injury, the Dark Lord had ordered Pettigrew to accompany me here, so that he may assist me. That repellent rat has no idea what he’s to assist me in doing. I shudder to think that I would need his help with anything. I’ve been using him to clean up the place, as the years of neglect are horribly apparent, and we each pretend to know what’s to come, while being convinced the other doesn’t. It’s a way of living, I suppose.

I know full well that one of that little pimple’s reasons for being sent here is to provide detailed reports to the Dark Lord as to my visitors and correspondents. However, I would not be as competent as a first-year student if I didn’t engage some of the more simple privacy charms around the house, on those few occasions when someone actually did come to call. Let that disgusting piece of vermin take back incomplete reports to his master; I only wish I could be there when punishment is meted out.

And I do get the occasional caller. Narcissa and Bellatrix have just left, not more than two hours ago. Pettigrew is probably still nursing his injured backside, as I had the pleasure of shooting out a most enjoyable hex to move him away from his favorite keyhole.

It was fortunate that I did, I soon learned. Narcissa had been beside herself with worry about her only son, and I had no choice but to make an Unbreakable Vow, if only to allay Bella’s suspicions about my loyalties. But what have I gotten myself into?

I had promised to watch over and protect Draco, which I would have done anyway. The boy is ambitious, and far too incautious. The more he tries to prove himself, the greater my worries. But I had also promised to complete the task that had been set before him, should he fail to accomplish it himself. Although I had momentarily hesitated to agree, I also knew I had no other option; not if Bellatrix was to believe that I was everything I purported to be.

I had stewed about this after they left, wondering what task would be such that Draco might fail? It couldn’t be anything so momentous, not for someone who had not yet joined the ranks; and yet, the Dark Lord had crossed a few boundaries lately. Who’s to say what he would ask of Draco? Something that would repay Lucius for his part in the fiasco at the Ministry? Perhaps revenge for having gotten himself arrested and imprisoned?

The more I pondered, the more dread I could feel building inside me. I began to feel the walls closing in on me, and, in a burst of restless energy, I slammed open the front door and left the house.

It had been years since I’d wandered around these streets. No doubt, only the older people inside these ramshackle houses would even know who I am. And then, only if they recognized me from my youth; however, I know the years have changed me. One cannot experience the things I’ve experienced without it showing up in one’s face, in one’s posture…and especially one’s eyes.

But at this time of night, these older Muggles will be hidden behind the false security of their locked doors, their drawn curtains. If they were in the habit of peeking out into the streets, let them. They wouldn’t see much. The briefest flash of my exposed face, perhaps. Everything else was cloaked in black. I blended with the night.

I listened disinterestedly in the sound of my footsteps upon the cobbled streets, walking down the road that would lead me, eventually, to the polluted river, where the other creatures of the night would dwell. I had hoped, for their sake, that no one would approach me. Animal or Muggle, I was in no mood for company.

As I finally stood on the banks of the river, looking at the shadowed hulk of the old mill across the way, I knew I wouldn’t find any answers or peace here.

I turned to my right, looking to the woods off in the distance. I began climbing back up the bank, walking along the rail to the train tracks. Crossing over them, I navigated the lot that separated this slum from the relative beauty of the rarely-entered trees beyond.

I knew I would meet no one else here; the children of the neighborhood, at least in my day, had only entered these woods on a dare. Most of them had believed in ghosts, goblins, ogres, and other creatures that go bump in the night. I still smile sometimes, remembering my efforts to perpetuate their fears. Using my carefully hidden wand, flickering it about, I myself had created the moans and cloudy apparitions that had ensured their quick retreat. I had gloried in being considered the bravest, most daring kid in the neighborhood, being the only one around who’d never hesitated to enter these frightening, haunted trees.

Oh, there were ghosts there; that much I had always known. But they were the last remaining memories of some of the men who’d lost their lives on the railroad, or at the mill. Industrial accidents had been common back in those days, but those ghosts had no more wish to contact the living than the living had been to contact them. I used to get lost in these woods, and they had been a handy place to have nearby, so that I could practice my skills. It was no wonder that, by the time I’d entered Hogwarts in my eleventh year, I could out-hex any of my fellow students.

I entered the woods by my favorite tree; it guarded the path that I would follow and enable me to find the trees that marked my preferred route. After twenty minutes, I was in the heart of the trees, my former resting spot seemingly not any different than it had been the last time I’d been here, some thirty years ago. A small clearing pointed out where I had once lit the odd fire or two; the two fallen trees, not rotting yet, even after all these years, had provided me with a place to sit as I had contemplated the meaning of my existence.

Sitting upon one of the tree trunks now, I refrained from conjuring up a fire, not knowing the area as well as once I did. Although I could sense no living presence around me, caution was burned into my soul as it had never been when I was still a child.

Looking to my left, I could see glimpses of the river as it wound its way past the woods. I could hear it plainly; there were no other sounds to compete with it. Straight ahead, the trees grew so thick that seeing beyond them would take something more than the vision nature had blessed me with. Off to my right, the path continued on. If I chose to follow it, I would leave this dank town, only to find another dismal copy of it at the path’s end.

Behind me was the neighborhood I had just left. Incredible. Every time I decide to leave a place, circumstances force me back. Every time I vow to give up a habit, Fate throws temptation back into my face. Every time I make plans to do something different, Providence throws obstacles in my path, like so many land mines, each one laughing at my frustration.

I felt there was nowhere I could go. To my left, the river might promise me death, should I drown before my traitorous body forces me to save myself. To my right, more of the life I’d always known, but in different colors, different flavors, albeit the same desolation. To the rear, the life I was now living. I could either sit here, stewing, not doing anything productive, or I could go forward, testing my fortune. It was a direction I’d never taken in my youth. Back then, I had been looking forward to escape from my unhappy home, and optimistic that my real future would begin with Hogwarts. And so it had, but not in any way I had imagined.

I rose from my makeshift seat, pushing through the mostly decaying fauna to seek out the shadows of the trees ahead.

And here were the ghosts with which I had threatened my childhood friends. They were watching over me, no doubt curious about my reasons for being there. I ignored them, knowing they had no business with me. None of them knew anything about my world, and since it was still considered the world of the living, they didn’t want to know. I could sense their withdrawal, and surmised that it hadn’t taken them long to understand that my being there had nothing to do with them.

There were no paths worn into the ground among these trees; it could very well be that I was the first to walk through here, or at least, one of very few. I had forgotten that these woods followed the river bank upward; by the time I’d reached a particularly large oak, I had to lean back against it in order to catch my breath. Teaching Potions and patrolling the grounds of Hogwarts did not provide me with the best physical workout I could have known, and I was forced to remember that I wasn’t ten years old anymore.

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the hint of movement off to my left. My first thought was that one of the ghosts had had a change of heart, and was trying to make contact. But there was something more solid than I would have expected about the shape nearing me. What other living thing would traverse these woods at this time of night?

My fingers tightened around the wand I hadn’t yet removed from my pocket. As the shape came closer to me, I strained my eyes, trying to focus on the moving form, waiting for the leaves in the trees to shift so the moonlight would enable me to see more clearly. It wasn’t until the entity in question paused about four feet in front of me that a breeze blew a whisper through the woods, allowing the moon dominance.

It was Olivia, and she was smiling.

She had forgiven me for having imprisoned her in my bed. She had searched for me, somehow knowing I’d be here. I no longer believed her to be flesh and blood, but rather, something ephemeral, something otherworldly.

As long as she could still smile at me, giving me the light in her eyes, I didn’t care what she was. I had given my soul to her; I realize that now. I didn’t miss it; she could do what she wanted with it. As long as she could do it with a smile on her face, she could have handed that stained, corrupted soul over to dementors and I wouldn’t have cared.

She had come to me.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” she said, tongue in cheek.

“How did you find me?”

“You’re not so easy to lose, Severus. How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t know,” I replied, wondering what she was getting at. Did she think I’d been searching for her? _Had_ I been?

“I got your summons.” _What_ summons?

“Olivia,” I began, taking her into my arms. “I don’t know anything about a summons. Is someone manipulating us? Should we worry about a trap of some kind?”

“Don’t worry, Severus,” she said, returning my embrace and whispering into my ear. “You send me a summons whenever you have great need of me. I’ve always answered.”

“Rubbish,” I argued. “There were plenty of times I’d mentally begged you to come to me, and you ignored me completely.”

“It’s nothing you can control. The summons comes from your soul, not your mind.”

I struggled to gain her meaning; her words confused me. My need of her tonight was not nearly so strong as in times past, when I’d been unfulfilled. Tonight, I was simply restless, and more than a little anxious. So, when does my soul know to call out for her?

“Why have you come tonight, then?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t think it meant that I had no need of her.

“Your Unbreakable Vow,” she answered. “It’s not the only promise you’ll make, and you’re going to be in a position soon that could very well destroy you completely.”

“So, tell me what it is,” I said, there being no doubt in my mind that she knew what she was talking about. “I’ll avoid it.”

“You can’t avoid it. You’ve been preparing for it for most of your life. There are so many people and events depending upon your actions during this coming year.”

“You can see the future, then?”

“No; all I can do is feel the waves in time. I don’t know what you’ll have to do, but I know it will have to be done. It will be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done in your life. It may be the most challenging thing you’ll ever have to do. But you have to do it. There’s no other way. “No one will understand why, except you. And you won’t be able to explain; you’ll be more misunderstood than you’d ever been before. Consequently, you’ll be more frustrated and enraged than ever before. It can’t be helped.”

“It’s Draco’s task, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll be there. I already know you’ll need me then.”

“I need you always.”

“I’m here now, Severus.”

I kissed her then, searing her lips with my desperation. So many questions I had: Who had sent her to me? Who was this all-knowing, all-seeing being that had decided my life was so filled with turmoil that I needed Olivia? Why did I crave her so?

These questions and more evaporated with the warmth of her hands upon my face, her fingers tangled in my hair, soothing the worry from my brow. I stood motionless, my breath coming in short gasps, as she stepped back from me, just far enough so that she could play with the buttons at the high collar of my shirt.

Although I had given up wearing my normal Hogwarts’ attire while I was here, knowing they’d only call attention to myself here on Spinner’s End and the surrounding area, my Muggle clothing wasn’t far removed from my usual wardrobe.

I forced myself to remain still, giving her all the time she wanted to work her way down my shirt front, then to unbuckle my belt. I closed my eyes to better savor the feeling, as she moved her hand across the front of my trousers, testing the status of my lust for her.

I allowed my mouth to open slightly, the better to free my harsh breaths, as she tugged on my fly to open it. I felt the night’s almost non-existent breeze upon my heated flesh as she freed me from the confining prison of my trousers. Her hot, demanding hands replaced the cool air as she began to stroke me. I put my hands down alongside of my legs so that I couldn’t grab her, couldn’t direct her movements. I wondered how long I’d be able to stand there, giving her free rein, my knees locked in order to prevent falling to her feet in a puddle of erotic nerves.

As she encouraged my growing passion with her talented hands, her lips were searching out my most erogenous zones that never seemed so sensitive to my own touches. It was only with Olivia that the hollow of my neck, just below my ear, gave over to such sensation. Only Olivia could change the tempo of my heartbeat with a nibble just below my Adam’s Apple.

Her hands left my stiff cock to move softly over my chest. I forced myself to remain still, keeping in mind that I couldn’t always control my baser instincts. I had no intention of being lord and master of her passion; not tonight. As her hands teased my nipples, my cock jerked in answer; it always amazed me that I could feel that jolt of awareness, having spent the better part of my life assuming that men didn’t have the same nerve endings that women did.

Her lips slid down to meet her hands, and I moaned to the moon above as she licked at me. Gripping my thighs to keep my hands in check, I bowed my head to touch my lips to her hair, to feel the silken strands on my sensitized mouth, to smell the clean scent of her shampoo. She reached up to pull my shirt slightly away from my shoulders, and I could better feel the dropping temperature of the woods around us. The raised gooseflesh upon my body only made me that much more aware of her every touch.

She trailed her lips and her tongue over my chest, down my abdomen, slowly, deliberately. I could feel my heart pounding harder, anticipating her intentions. I could feel her opening her legs around mine, moving so that every part of her was still in contact with me as she shifted to kneel before me. I felt her hands cover mine, knew she could feel the tension in them. I felt her smile against the thin layer of skin that covered my hip. She so clearly enjoyed the effect that she knew she had upon me; being at her mercy was nothing I should ever have tried to escape. She had always made sure I had nothing to regret about it. She felt her way past my hands to my rear, still covered by my trousers. Slipping her fingers under my belt, she tugged, smoothly sliding my trousers past my hips. I willingly removed my hands from my legs so she could easily push them further down. My hands had nothing to cling to, and they flailed about uselessly as I looked down to watch Olivia as she nibbled her way up my thighs to where all the blood and heat of my body was concentrated.

A more erotic sight I had so seldom witnessed, I knew, as I took in the sight of this remarkable witch, this goddess, this angel…whatever she was, as she got down on her knees before me, her mouth providing me with such exquisite torture. She was in no hurry, and I knew the ghosts in the trees would be hearing things they may never have heard in life, because I was already past keeping silent. My breath was rasping in and out of my lungs, more voice than respiration. When I could silence myself for a brief moment, I could hear the sound of her soft moans as she smoothed her lips over my tender, shuddering flesh.

“Ahh…Olivia! Oh, my gods…” I shattered the stillness around us as the words were torn from my throat, startling myself. Her lips, her tongue… She was teasing my balls and I clenched my hands into fists, biting down on one in a vain attempt to control myself. As she licked her way to the base of my shaft, continuing upward to my glistening head, I felt I could not trust my legs to support me. Glancing at the ground, seeing all the fallen twigs and decaying leaves, I frantically moved my eyes around, searching.

Pulling her up, feeling my frantic cock brush against the front of her robes--Oh, gods, did she have to wear silk?--I almost threw her against the tree I’d originally been leaning against. One very large branch grew from its trunk about a meter from the ground, forking out and away. I lifted Olivia until she was almost sitting in the pocket it formed, hoping that her robes would protect her delicate skin from the roughness of the tree’s bark.

Willing my shaking hands to take care, I began unclasping the fastenings of her robes, pleased and becoming even more impatient when I saw that she was trembling as she waited for me to expose her body.

She was wearing nothing beneath her robes; had she known that clothing would only get in the way? I smoothed my calloused hands down her body; her firm, yet soft, breasts, heaving in her excitement; the flawless skin of her ribcage; the tender flesh of her thighs…all waiting for my touch. As I rewarded my hands with the feeling of her skin beneath them, she reached up to either side of her, grasping the bark in her hands.

I moved my finger to her folds, slowly parting her lips and spreading her lusty juices all around her heat. Her answering gasp echoed in the stillness of the woods, and I pushed my finger slowly into her. She bowed her head back, tightening her hold on the branches so she could push herself closer to me, to my probing finger. I added another finger to her tight canal, and used my thumb to tease the nub above.

“Severus…” I could hear the plea in her voice, could feel her hot liquid dripping. I needed no more assurance that she was ready. One hand on her hip, the other guiding myself, I pushed into her, squeezing my eyes shut against the instant heat that arose inside me, the heat that pressed around me. I put both my hands on her hips, pulling her against me as I strained to get deeper inside her. I felt her legs lock around my hips, and the movement caused the smooth tunnel to change slightly, making me jerk forward, planting myself deeply into her smoldering core.

I forced myself to stop moving, to try my damnedest to ignore her quietly murmured protest, her erotic heat, to control my desire to plunge in and out like someone frenzied. Even as I stood motionless, except for my chest, which was heaving with my heavy breathing, I could feel her muscles working me over, milking me as I tried to calm down.

Her hands left the branches she’d been clinging to, and she wrapped her arms around me, kissing me, drawing my tongue into her mouth, sucking feverishly. Control wasn’t going to be mine tonight, I knew then, and I thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth to show her what I had in mind for other parts of us. I tore my mouth away from hers, and we both gasped in lungsful of air to feed our pounding hearts. I bucked my hips against hers, every inch of me now inside her, and I felt her legs convulsively close around me. Grabbing her hips once again, I let myself move freely, pulling out as slowly as I could in my fever, only to drive quickly into her again. She’d shifted her hands back to the branches again, and as we moved together in the night, she thrust against me, pivoting her hips with each forward push.

I knew the instant she approached her climax, and the tell-tale heat that consumed her enveloped me. Her movements took on a new intensity, as did mine, and together we strained for what we’d wordlessly promised each other. My knees began to bang into the tree with each thrust; I could feel her begin to slip from her secure pocket in the fork of the tree. We couldn’t take the time to make adjustments now. We were both too close. I felt her inner fire enfold me in its flames. As she began shouting into my ear, I felt her close tightly around me, gripping me. For an instant, she froze, clenching me, pulling me across an invisible, yet powerful border, where I so gladly joined her in paradise.

I dimly felt my skin being scraped from my knees as my hips jerked and bucked, faster and faster, allowing her muscles to stroke me to mind-blowing ecstasy. I pulled her from the tree to clasp her firmly to me as I emptied myself into her; my throat was raw with the bestial grunting I was powerless to contain. As I began to come down to earth once again, I fell forward, leaning against the tree, still trying to prevent her from being scraped by the bark.

By the time I became aware of the silent night around us, my breathing had almost returned to normal, and I felt the chill air against my bared backside. Glancing at Olivia to make sure she was all right, I saw that her eyes were still glazed, and her lids were half-closed. It flattered my ego to have such an effect on her, and offered a silent, but heartfelt, prayer of gratitude to the gods that watch over us that no matter what Olivia was--angel, demon, or witch--she had the capacity to feel what she so clearly could feel.

I began to close her robes, taking my time fastening the clasps, and giving her time to regain all her senses. Smoothing my hand down her back, I whispered into her ear, loving the answering tremor that shot through her.

“Did you get scratched up?”

“Who knows?” she answered, still dazed. “Who cares?”

I smiled, allowing my masculine ego to enjoy her response. It wasn’t often that I felt flattered, without having to feel suspicious about the speaker’s motives as well.

I slowly released my hold on her, until I felt her leaning back against the tree. I reached down, pulling up my trousers and fastening them, tucking in my shirt. As I looked up at her, she smiled, pushing away from the tree and moving my fingers away so she could button my shirt for me.

When she finished, she smoothed my hair away from my face, and I looked into her eyes that now showed concern.

“Severus,” she began. “This time ahead will be very difficult for you. You’ll be seeing much more of me.”

“Then how can I agree that it will be difficult?” I answered, smiling. “That would be impossible.”

She smiled sadly. “Just hold that thought. And always remember that even when you don’t see me, even when you think you’re all alone…you’re not.”

There was no answer to that. I took her hand in mine, and we began heading out of the woods, back to the guardian tree that separated this enchanted land from the dismal and depressing reality of my life.

We parted at that tree, no further words being necessary. I took a deep breath and slowly retraced my steps across the railroad tracks, over the cobblestoned streets, through the alley to Spinner’s End, and to the darkened porch of my summer home.

Back to my life…


	7. Miasma of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the stars...

Chapter 7  
Miasma of Doom

28th, May

I am adrift in Limbo; I am wrapped in the oppressively heavy cloak of impending disaster, and I have just realized that, although my life is not usually a happy one, I had not felt this way for quite some time. I no longer know how to deal with this hollow feeling of knowing something awful will happen, but being entirely ignorant as to what can be done about it. Nothing can be done, I suppose.

I remember how smugly I sat at the Head Table during the Welcoming Feast, when Albus made the announcement that I was to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It had been a long time in coming, and I felt that the support I received from my House made up for the resentment I could sense, coming off in waves, from the others. I felt I deserved the post, that I had campaigned long and hard for it, and that Albus was finally showing his faith in me by appointing me to it.

Had I but thought about it from an objective point-of-view, I would have realized last summer, when he first voiced his wish for this, that he was doing me no favors. The position was cursed; the Dark Lord had seen to that almost fifty years ago. No one has lasted long in it. Did this mean I was soon to die, or was I simply to return to Potions after my year of dubious glory?

Still, I had waited too long for this not to embrace my new role happily. With a light heart, I had prepared my syllabus. I had mentally rehearsed my first speech to my incoming students, wondering how much I could get away with in baiting Potter and Longbottom. And how much Malfoy would think he’d be able to get away with.

Things had settled into a comfortable routine. After a few months, I became aware that Potter had suddenly gained quite an expertise in Potions. It could have been simply Slughorn’s bias for the Golden Boy; I knew I hadn’t been a poor teacher. But I began to suspect that Potter had somehow gained access to my old textbook. Why had I left it laying around? Had I subconsciously wanted him to find it? Could it be that Albus understood me better than I knew myself? No. Impossible. Potter’s still the spoiled, arrogant little brat I’d always detested, and I had not thought of that book for many years. Should I worry? Did that boy have the intelligence to figure out who had once owned that book? And what would he do with the spells I’d added to the text?

I had put away my worries, figuring that if he kept that book a secret from his cronies, then Granger wouldn’t be able to help him figure out who I am. None of these children have any reason to study Eileen Prince.

My worries about Draco had been weighing heavily on my shoulders all this year. He was much more secretive than I had ever given him credit for. If I could only figure out what task he’d been set, I could head off the worst of the trouble that was sure to come. There had been incidents for which I knew he’d been responsible: the hexed necklace Katie Bell had been instructed to deliver to someone at the castle…the poisoned bottle that Slughorn almost drank.

Draco had been avoiding me; had I not found out that Slughorn’s wine was to have been given to Albus, I never would have calculated what Draco’s task must be. It was then that I realized how far the Dark Lord had gone. Draco had been ordered to kill Albus.

I had explained all this reasoning to Albus. Draco was clearly not expected to succeed, and because of the Vow I had entered into with Narcissa, I would have to do it myself, or die. Albus hadn’t seemed surprised at hearing this. We’d argued, and the old wizard made me promise to do what I had to do, no matter what.What can he be thinking?

I had not surrendered easily. He reminded me of my promise years ago; how I had sworn to him, fifteen years ago, that he would never have reason to doubt my return to my senses, and he reminded me of my remorse at what my treachery had done, after having heard part of Trelawney’s prophecy. I argued that he had no right to expect me to still feel that way--too much time had passed for me to agree blindly to things I didn’t understand.

But he told me that one day soon, I would understand. In the meantime, I must promise that I would do what needed to be done, and without hesitation. I had finally agreed, promising once again my loyalty to him. It was the only way to shut him up and get out of there before anyone heard us.

I had known that he and Potter were going to go out searching for Horcruxes. I’d known they existed, but not how many. Albus understood the Dark Lord’s logic so much better than I. I had, long ago, helped the Dark Lord prepare for the splitting of his soul, but I had been ordered to leave his side then and never speak of it. Obeying him, I’d never known how many Horcruxes he’d prepared. I hope Albus is right in his reasoning, because Potter will take his word as being carved in granite. Any mistake Albus might make will soon be Potter’s mistake, and I don’t even want to wonder what will happen to the world and their beliefs, should Potter get himself killed.

I am anxious that things are coming to a head. As I had feared, upon learning that Potter had taken possession of my old Potions book, he’d been experimenting with some of my spells. I had stormed into the bathroom just in time to prevent Draco’s bloody death at Potter’s hands. Perhaps I should have simply failed to act so quickly? Draco would have died, Potter would have been vilified, and what the Dark Lord had begun would have ended, at least until he could form a new plan.

I would have died, of course, since I would not have taken over Draco’s task. I would have broken that Unbreakable Vow, but wouldn’t that have been the best course anyway?

However, I hadn’t had time to think it all through. Draco’s life forces were draining nearly as quickly as his blood, and it took three passes of my counter-curse before he could be moved to the hospital wing. Knowing Poppy’s skillful use of dittany, Draco won’t even have a scar to remember this incident.

This development had shocked me, even as sure as I was where Potter had learned his new curse. He just doesn’t have it in him to murder anyone. He’ll carry his own scars over this incident for life. I knew he’d had no idea what the result would be before he’d uttered that curse. But perhaps it would be best if I could report this to Albus, forcing him to expel the boy.

And yet…I know Albus wouldn’t allow Potter to leave the school. Not now. Not with all that is to come, whatever that may be. I would be putting Albus in an untenable position for nothing. I can’t do that. I can’t just destroy whatever his plans are; I must trust him as he trusts me.

As I sit now, writing in this journal, if only to avoid pacing off my anxiety, I mock myself for not realizing last summer why Pettigrew was sent to assist me in whatever was to come. I should have remembered the last time we’d been forced to work together in the Dark Lord’s service.

It had been to make preparations for the Revolution. Pettigrew and I had been instrumental in paving the way for the Dark Lord to come into all his power. And now, he was again preparing for that final step that would bring him into power over us all.

I am beyond despair. Draco cannot stop now; he and Narcissa will both be dealt with most unmercifully should this endeavor fail. And Draco will fail; this much I know. One does not need strong skills in Legilimency in order to see certain things.

And Albus alone knows exactly why he’d extracted that promise from me; I knew, by the way he’d held his eyes, that he was about to make some sort of Gryffindor-type sacrifice. I can’t do anything about it now, and so I must not allow myself to dwell upon it.

Could my darkness be more complete? And how is it that when I feel I’m at my lowest, Olivia fails to heed my silent plea for her company? How is it possible that my soul does not cry out for her when my mind and heart have been doing nothing but?

And yet she did not come to me. I have gone over in my mind, repeatedly, her every word to me last summer in the woods. I have tried in vain to soothe myself, to comfort myself, with the memory of what had happened in the midst of those silent, haunted trees.

I cannot blame her for ignoring me; I don’t believe it’s her choice. I have seen her a few times, as I prowled through these dank and dark corridors.

I had been on my way to Slughorn’s party, wishing I could avoid it entirely, when I’d been grabbed and pulled into a broom closet off the hallway. I had long since stopped becoming irritated at this; I wanted her company too desperately to care how she provided it.

I pushed her back against the wall, the two of us totally enveloped by the darkness of the closet. She’d found a narrow ledge to lean upon, and she’d lifted her legs, wrapping them around my hips, allowing me to grind intimately against her heat. Gasping at my sudden and pressing need, I struggled to remember what single word might remove the restrictive clothing from our bodies; I don’t remember ever before having failed to come up instantly with whatever charm I’d ever needed. Such was the effect Olivia had upon my senses.

Filling my grasping hands with her breasts, teasing her nipples to hardness, I thrust my tongue into her mouth, tasting her. I pushed against her with my hips, using my entrapped hardness to tease her into a flood of wetness that I fancied I could feel, even through our layers of clothing. Moving my lips to her neck, so that at least we could breathe, I moaned out my gratitude that she’d found me, that this closet was handy, and that we agreed upon the best way to spend an evening.

Her hand cupped me, and as I shuddered in response, she rubbed up and down my shaft, her hand moving smoothly over the tented wool of my trousers. As she had known it would, her touch set in motion the demon inside me, the demon that controlled the movements of my hips, causing me to mindlessly buck against her. Pushing her blouse up, intending to get closer to the creamy skin underneath, I was surprised when she began pushing me away, when she quickly smoothed her robes down over herself.

My heart pounding, the blood rushing through my vessels, I wondered if I’d been too rough with her, if I’d hurt her in some way. But she’d taken a deep breath to calm herself, then told me I’d have to go to Slughorn’s party; I was needed there now.

Understanding that she had some way of knowing things I didn’t, I wondered angrily why she’d stopped me in the corridor, as the party had been where I’d been heading when she’d shanghaied me to this closet. What was the purpose of teasing me this way?

She’d known what I was thinking. “Severus, I really hadn’t known, but he’s there now, just about to be discovered. You have to be there, he might confide in you tonight.”

The anger left me as quickly as it had come. I knew she was referring to Draco; the stubborn boy had been ignoring me, had been refusing to tell me his plans. It wasn’t that he suspected me of trying to stop him; I believed he was afraid that if he received help, it wouldn’t be his accomplishment. I had been trying to get him to tell me outright what the Dark Lord had ordered him to do, still hoping beyond hope that I was wrong; that what I worried about wasn’t what Draco had in mind.

Olivia was right; I couldn’t pass this opportunity to corner him, to find him in a situation where he couldn’t escape my questions. Apparently, he’d been invited to Slughorn’s party. I hadn’t expected that. “I wouldn’t have thought Draco was part of Slughorn’s crowd,” I told her, looking for a reason, no matter how slim, to stay hidden in this closet with her.

“He isn’t,” she replied. “He slipped in, hoping to cozy up to Slughorn. It has something to do with his wish for that potion, the Felix Felicis. You have to get over there, before he figures out how to steal it.”

I needed no further urging, no matter how high my blood pressure was, how fast my pulse was beating. The last thing Draco needed right now was good luck.

And so I’d left her there, as wet as I was hard. By the time I’d exhausted my chances of digging out any information from Draco, she’d disappeared.

I spotted her again two days later. I easily recognized the come-hither look in her dazzling green eyes, and my heart rate sped up accordingly. Alas, I was on my way to my DADA lesson, and had to force myself to continue on my way, throwing myself behind my desk forlornly. Leaving the class to read their next two chapters, I stewed about the unfairness of things in general, with Olivia having a free hour and a half while I sat before this unappreciative and sluggish group of maggots.

As I sat there, brooding, I felt a warm firmness pressing against me. Recognizing the sensation from a time, two years ago, when I had sat in the Great Hall as she had teased me from afar, I allowed my legs to open slightly to accommodate her. I shut my eyes, resting my forehead on my hand, shielding my features from my class, and trying to regulate my breathing.

I heard the almost audible silence of the room around me as my students sat there, reading, and I realized that if things continued as they were progressing, they’d become alerted to my increased respiration, and, Merlin forbid, a moan might escape me. This would not do, and I had no way of removing myself from her attentions. It would have been impossible to know how to do that, as I didn’t know how she was doing what she was doing.

Abruptly waving my wand at the overhead projector at the back of the room, I startled the students by starting it up. “You can catch up on your reading later,” I told them. “Take copious notes of what you’re about to see. It may save your worthless lives one day.” As the projector showed them slides of werewolf attacks, vampire assaults, and banshee hauntings, I relaxed slightly, having bought myself just a little freedom from exposure.

I waved my wand once again, shutting the windows, ostensibly with the idea that it would allow the slides to be seen more clearly. As the room darkened, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feelings she was producing in me. As I had spoken to the class, I heard the slight tremor in my voice, and I wondered just how far she planned to torture me with ecstasy in front of my class. I’d never given her any reason to think I could control my audible responses to her attentions, and I knew she didn’t have it in her heart to disgrace me, to shame me in any way.

So, what was she trying to prove?

In spite of my misgivings, I was powerless to keep myself from pushing against her invisible force, to see, in my mind’s eye, her delicate fingers playing over my bulge. As I felt her fondling me, as I shifted to afford myself more room in my trousers, I opened my mouth slightly. As the werewolf on the screen howled at the moon, I moaned out a sigh, bracing my hands against my seat and pushing my hips up to meet her pressure.

I was getting seriously worried by then. I knew that should she continue in this vein, or if she could manage even more, such as undoing my fly and esoterically stroking me, all the werewolf howling in the world wouldn’t prevent these students from noticing my lustful preoccupation with behavior they might recognize, even if they couldn’t see why it was happening.

And I was powerless to stop her. I was unable to stop my reactions, to pretend that nothing was happening. My breath burst out of me in a gasp as I felt the quick squeeze to my balls, and I covered it with a cough, as a couple of the students nearest me looked over, startled at my sudden movement. I felt the sweat starting at my hairline, partly in increased excitement, but mostly in fear that I was about to be shamed beyond anything I’d previously experienced. My gods...her touch was getting so intense; I could feel the moist heat as she conjured the feeling of her mouth on me, puffing her hot breath through the thin wool of my trousers. Years of the strictest self-discipline were all that prevented me from ripping open my fly and using my own hand to seek relief.

Suddenly, her touch left me. As I drew in a deep breath, I cautiously awaited her next move. Sitting motionless for a few minutes, I began to think that perhaps I’d been given a reprieve; that she’d taken mercy on me and the innocence of the children around me.

I schooled my thoughts to the creatures of the night that I was supposed to be teaching these students about, concentrating on what I was to assign them for their homework. When at last the slideshow ended, I had managed to regain my stoic features, although I decided it would be prudent to remain seated behind my desk until the last of them had left the room.

Exiting the classroom shortly after, I hitched my trousers sharply to adjust my now flaccid penis, kicking my leg out slightly to make sure I was arranged properly and comfortably to the left. My eyes had eagerly sought the sight of her once I gained the corridor, but I think I’d already known she wouldn’t be there.

So, it was her goal to have me climbing the walls, was it? I could scarcely afford the wandering of my attention from the turmoil within me and around me, in what I felt was a crucial time here at Hogwarts. Over the next couple of days, I found myself unable to rest; I had taken to patrolling the corridors and grounds, even on those nights when it had been someone else’s duty. It was getting to be a rare event indeed, to find students breaking curfew and stealing kisses in the bushes, they having been warned that I was taking no prisoners.

Trying to calm my twitching nerves, both from my knowledge that things would soon break free of their barely-hidden peace, and I from my sexual frustration, I climbed up to the top of the Astronomy Tower to seek the serenity of the night’s sky, and the slow, hard-to-see movements of the giant squid living in the lake.

I looked out over the ramparts, leaning forward to rest my outstretched arms against the parapet. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply of the scent of the pines in the forest, I was startled into opening my eyes when I sensed a presence before me.

Olivia had come to me once again, having slipped between me and the walls. Her laughing eyes met mine, daring me not to smile back. I felt my lips moving, and didn’t try to stop them. I had a feeling she knew my mind better than I, and it would do no good to deny that I was glad of her company.

I closed the slight gap between us, taking her into my arms and holding her close to me. Lowering my head to nibble at her lips, I was gratified to feel her arms encircle my neck, pulling me even closer, warming me with her heat. I could feel her urgency, and I wondered then if she’d been affected as I’d been; our two recent near-misses that had left me craving more; my inability to sleep.

I slowly prodded her lips with my tongue, as if asking permission to take more. I could feel the softening of her lips, the sensual movement of her tongue against mine, the heat of her body close to mine. She was igniting the flame inside me, but slowly, and I somehow knew we would not be interrupted this night.

I could feel a buzzing gently and warmly invading me. Her touches were soothing...comforting...and yet she was inciting me, inviting me to take what I needed from her. And I knew what I needed from her. I needed faith that there was something in this world that didn’t depend upon my skills in Occlumency; feelings that didn’t involve fear, loathing, or despair; people that had such depth to their souls that they could live as if unaware of the malevolent forces that drive our lives.

As the cool night’s breeze blew across the bulwark, hitting our heated bodies, I urged her to come with me as I lowered myself to the floor beneath us. As I coaxed her to her back beneath me, my mind whirled back to the first time I’d become aware of her. To her impish attempts to make this castle her new home, and how it had affected the rest of us.

I so wanted to see that spark of light in her eyes once again, exhorting us all to ease up on our worries and enjoy life. I didn’t resent the intensity that had developed between us; I found it difficult these days to resent anything about it, other than that reality intruded far too often.

I simply wanted a reason to smile again--to lose myself in the green luminescence of her eyes. As well as I knew and understood the darkness in my soul, I also knew that soon, something would happen that would take away my capacity for smiling for a long time to come.

But these thoughts could not destroy what she was making me feel as I held her; my body had become too addicted to her attentions to be denied. I began to lose myself in the pressure, the caress of her yielding body under mine. I breathed out her name, trying to convey to her, through my whisper, how she made me feel.

I knew she understood my message. The responding pivot of her hips told me what I needed to hear, and my whisper became a moan, sounding low in the quiet stillness of the night. As her fingers laced into the hair falling around my face, I used my teeth to pull apart the clasps holding closed her robes. My pelvis jumped involuntarily, bucking against her, as soon as I realized that, once again, she was naked underneath. She’d come up here specifically looking for me, wanting to make love with me.

I forced myself up on my knees, still between her legs, enjoying her upset features at my withdrawal. Reaching down, I continued to work the clasps that held her robes together, pulling the shimmering material apart with each one undone. When she was completely and so blatantly exposed to the chill air, her nipples hardened even further, I leaned back once more, reaching up to the topmost button of my frock coat. As I slowly pushed it through its buttonhole, and dragged my fingers down to the next button, I watched her tongue peek out from between her lips, wetting them. I knew she was remembering how long it could take me to do this.

I did nothing to disguise my rapid breathing; I reveled in the way her eyes darted from my hidden erection, then back to my fingers, and finally, to my eyes. I watched her travel over this visual route, again and again, as if she couldn’t control her lust. And I knew that once I enticed her past that intangible barrier of her meager constraint, she would be mine. She would be like a finely-tuned violin, waiting for my rosined bow to produce music in her, in us. By the time I unfastened the last button and pulled open my coat, her hands were clenched in her robes, pulling them up from the floor to her hips, only to drop them again.

Too often during all this time that I’d known her, I had felt that she’d been sent by someone to guide me, to protect me from something of which I had little understanding. But now, looking down at the struggle I could see in her as she denied herself what she so clearly wished to wrest from me, I began to realize that I could see some changes in her.

She was willing to wait for me to take her, though it was obvious that the wait was difficult for her. A year ago, she would already have pushed me beyond reason. Tonight, I slowly opened my shirt, my trousers tented out in front of me, watching her tremble before me. The light I had always looked for in her eyes was no less brilliant than it had been then, but now it was more intense, more focused upon me.

I pulled my shirt from my trousers, dimly noting that my fingers were unsteady as I finished unbuttoning it. I pulled both my shirt and my coat wide open, savoring the cool air on my chest. My ego refusing to let me believe that these temperatures were the sole reason for her quivering, I slowly unbuckled my belt, pulling it from its loops and tossing it aside.

I passed my hand leisurely over my aching cock, closing my eyes against the thrill that shot through me. The wool of my trousers agitated the silk of my boxers, and my heightened senses reminded me of how certain parts of my anatomy reacted to the moving touch of silk upon heated flesh.

My eyes flew open upon hearing her moan; her breasts were heaving, her stare on my active hand Entertaining as it was to witness her eagerness and willingness to let me control our passion, I was nonetheless jolted with a charge of excitement as she lurched forward, taking one side of my fly in each of her hands and pulling me with her as she threw herself back to lie again on the floor.

Catching myself on my elbows, I covered her body with mine, my robes draping over both of us, protecting us from the uncooperative evening atmosphere. As I moved my lips over her shoulder, tasting her creamy smoothness, I felt her demanding hands pushing my trousers and shorts down past my hips, and I held my breath against the surge of exhilaration that overtook me. There weren’t many things in this world more exciting than the feel of a lover stripping away the last remnant of clothing that separated her from what she sought.

My pent-up breath hissed from between my lips when her hand gripped me, her thumb moving to trace an insistent path up and down my shaft. When her thumb moved over the tip, I groaned, and pushed my knees against hers, opening her legs wider. She needed no further encouragement, and I heard my own voice letting go of inarticulate declarations of hunger as she guided me to her, pulling at me until she could be sure I wasn’t trying to escape.

She moved her arms to clench me to her, her hands smoothing up my back until they could grip my shoulders. As I pushed into her, she shifted under me, and the burning heat of her tightening around me caused a chain-reaction in my nervous system that I was powerless to supervise. The more her body stroked mine, the less say I had in the movement of my hips, of all of me, and the harder I pumped in and out of her.

I could feel each twitch and spasm of her body; I felt her tension as she strained to get ever closer to me, working her body with mine. I knew that if it were possible for me to stop moving completely, we would still be rutting like wild beasts, calling out to the stars above us, begging for release.

As she lifted her legs and wrapped them around my hips, I felt the intensity of passion take me over; I became aware of her rotating hips, rocking with me. My piston-like hammering enabled me to hit against her in all the right places, as she proved to me when she dug her nails into my back, as she gasped my name in my ear. I could feel the heat inside her intensify; I choked out gibberish as her waves of spasms stroked me. She gave one more pivot to her hips, and it was all I needed. I plunged deep, bucking into her. My throat raw with my vocal illustrations of fulfillment, I wordlessly spoke, no, shouted, as I exploded inside her, giving her so much more of myself than even she knew.

There continued such a strong wave of sensation flowing through me as I collapsed upon her warm and welcoming breasts, long after I’d felt my final shudder. I didn’t understand what I was feeling, and although it somehow frightened me, I also drew solace from it. It left me with a feeling of strength and peace that I had never known before, and I knew it would stay with me for a while.

Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly withdrew from her, rolling to my back next to her and drawing her close in my embrace. I arranged her robes now to cover us both, and I looked up to the stars high above us, kissing the top of her head to feel the silken strands soft against my lips.

As our heartbeats began to slow, I stared at the black night, wishing I could see what was in store for us all. I had a feeling that this would be the last time, for a long time, that I could gaze up at these stars with such a feeling of peace inside me.

I allowed my eyes to close, my hands to continue moving over her. I could still see the faint light of the stars imprinted inside my eyelids, and they suggested a design I will always cringe to see.

The shape of things to come...


	8. What Have I Done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terrible tragedy.

Chapter 8  
What Have I Done?

12th, June

Somewhere deep within my soul, I think I had known all along what Albus wanted of me. And he knew, as well as did I, that I would act as I had promised him. The realization that he had trusted me so deeply in this impossible situation humbles me as nothing else could.

He’d known that after I answered his final plea, I would have sunk to a level of self-hatred that I had never known before, and he trusted that I would deal with that. I only wish I had as much faith in myself as my former mentor had in me. From where I stand, I can’t imagine ever being able to climb out of this deep pit of loathing that I’d jumped into, almost twenty years ago.

For it had been roughly twenty years ago that I’d first taken the mark that separated me from wizards with a conscience. Twenty years ago, I’d foolishly united with a group of deviants with whom I’d thought I had found a family, a sense of belonging; something I’d never known, but had always craved. Twenty years ago, I would have stopped at nothing to prove my worthiness to such a group, such a leader, who would value my contributions and reward me accordingly. I had embraced the hope of gaining the sponsorship of a powerful and wise teacher, who would help nurture and fine-tune my skills.

It hadn’t taken me long to wake up, to realize that it had been a fool’s dream. He had been no more appreciative of my strengths and loyalties than my own father had been. Again, I had not found the acceptance for which I had searched.

I had made one last-ditch effort to win his favor, but I had only heard part of the prophesy. I had tried to warn him of that, but he’d gotten a crazed look in his eyes, and I knew then that everything I’d believed had been a lie. When I had learned the full consequences of my report to him, I had thought I couldn’t hate myself more. The only reason I had not thrown myself into the first ocean I could find was the knowledge that I would be getting off too easily.

I had so desperately needed to do something to repair what damage I could. I had needed someone to tell me that there were souls in this world more corrupt than mine; someone to convince me that greater crimes than mine could be exonerated. But one does not leave the dark ranks so easily. I had needed a game plan.

And so, I had gone to see Albus. He had quietly listened to me as I related everything I’d done since having completed my education at Hogwarts. I confessed my skills in Occlumency, and allowed him to probe, unobstructed, into my mind as a show of faith. I had allowed him to plod through my anguish and remorse for the information I had provided the Dark Lord; I had felt him prod my memories, sifting through the gloom and desolation of my life so he could better understand what had sent me to those dark wizards in the first place. I had allowed him to filter through my depression so he might see my fervent wish to atone.

He’d accepted me, flaws and all. In all the years of my struggle to fit in, and my failing to do so, he’d never swerved from his faith in me, in spite of everyone else’s beliefs to the contrary. He’d never betrayed my secrets, even in defending me to those who doubted his judgment.

And I’d just repaid him by killing him.

I would sooner have killed my own father, would sooner have opened my own heart and allowed all my blood to drain from me, than kill the only wizard that had so effectively given me a reason to go on.

But I’d killed him.

I had killed before; the Avada Kedavra was nothing new to me. It had felt different this time. Clearly, if the intention to kill, if the rage and hatred isn’t there, it’s not the same. I had not felt the force of power hurled from myself that I would normally have felt. My heart just hadn’t been in it.

And yet, Albus was dead.

I sat on the tattered sofa in the dark and depressing sitting room in the derelict house on Spinner’s End, feeling too stunned, too shattered to wonder when Olivia would come to me. Although I knew my soul was crying out for her, I didn’t expect her to show. Not now. She’d fulfilled what I was sure her purpose had been--to guide me and support me so that I would be able to do what I had to do. Now it was done, and whatever deity had sent her to me must surely have found a more deserving soul for her to safeguard. A soul that had a chance of redemption. Not like mine.

Feeling suddenly restless, I stood and began to pace through the room, carefully glancing out the curtained window with each pass. The house was Unplottable, and I knew that even the best of the Ministry’s Aurors didn’t know this was my house; they’d have no reason to come to this town.

Narcissa and Draco were supposed to be here, hiding in the basement that Pettigrew had spent the past year preparing. But Draco had failed to throw the curse that killed Albus, so he had to hide from the wrath of the Dark Lord, as he would be punished unmercifully. It only followed that Narcissa must be hidden as well, as she would otherwise be used as bait to lure Draco out of hiding.

With the help of some of the dementors that were still in the employ of the Dark Lord, I had taken Lucius from Azkaban so he could join his family as they’d fled, hiding from those that would soon be searching for them. Once it became known that the Malfoys were hiding from their master, I would have to be ready with an alibi. I had to convince the rest that I had nothing to do with Draco’s escape. There were a couple of witnesses that could inform the Dark Lord that I had killed Albus, but these same witnesses would also report that I had failed to capture Potter, even when I had the chance to do so.

As for myself, I didn’t know yet what I was planning to do. I would be tortured, no doubt, for killing Albus when it had been Draco’s task to do so. However, I knew I had only acted as the Dark Lord had expected, and had wished. Therefore, I would eventually be forgiven, since the end justified the means. The very idea that I had killed the Dark Lord’s most powerful enemy would ensure that I would be trusted more deeply than ever before.

And why had I left Potter behind? Why do I plan to report to the Dark Lord? I know this isn’t over yet. I know Albus would have died in vain if I don’t do what I can to see this war through to its end. The Dark Lord must be destroyed once and for all, even if that does make Potter seem like the world’s most powerful wizard.

Who cares who carried that title? It’s not one I had coveted; not once I’d passed childhood. I don’t know how many Horcruxes Potter and Albus had managed to destroy. I didn’t know how many must be taken care of before Potter, or someone, would have to face the Dark Lord for the final phase. And it would have to be done before he learned that his severed soul was in danger. I must find a way to speak to Potter. Now that Albus is gone, Potter would need my help. There weren’t many others who understood the concept of Horcruxes; it wasn’t a practice often used.

But if I dared approach Potter now, I’d be either killed or in Azkaban before I could utter the word, ‘Horcrux’. He had no reason to trust me; no one had. Who could possibly believe that I had been acting on Albus’ orders? It sounded lame even to me, and I could vividly recall the painful conversation, or rather, argument, that had sealed that promise.

On my way past the window once again, I felt a presence that hadn’t been there a second earlier. Whipping out my wand and whirling about, I froze upon seeing Olivia, my wand raised, but the hex stuck in my throat.

She watched me quietly until I lowered my wand. She smiled at me then, and I turned away, not wishing her to see the loathing in my eyes. Not loathing for her, no. Loathing for myself. Admittedly, my heart had leapt to see her here; the one living soul who wouldn’t strike me dead immediately upon seeing me.

But I was not in the right frame of mind to have company. It was impossible to pretend she cared for me while I hated myself so much. She couldn’t repair my shattered soul now. She didn’t have enough magic within her to make me believe I could escape this hell, even for a short while.

I threw myself down to the sofa, putting away my wand and covering my face with my hand. I didn’t even want her to look at me. I was sure that if I ignored her, she would leave. She, who always seemed to be able to read my mind, would know that she must leave, that she must spare me the pain of seeing myself through her eyes.

I waited, my ears straining to hear her quiet pop of Disapparation, or the rustle of her robes as she moved. When I felt her sit next to me, I inwardly groaned, knowing I’d have to find the words to express the indescribable cesspool of emotions I must wade through alone. I lowered my hand, just as the swirling eddy enveloped me; we were being Disapparated, and I struggled to reach my wand, not knowing who was responsible for this. When the motion ceased, when we found ourselves at our destination, would we be facing the Dark Lord? The Ministry?

As all motion around me stopped, I found myself sitting on a different sofa, facing a different room. This room was much brighter than I was used to; looking around, I could see long windows letting in the early morning sun, stone walls painted off-white, and deep plush area rugs covering a dark wooden floor.

I looked to my side, where Olivia sat with me on this new, softer sofa. She wasn’t interested in our new surroundings; she was watching me, as if waiting for me to speak. Looking around again, I saw books lining one wall, next to a closed door. There was another doorway across the room, and through it, I saw one end of a kitchen. Looking behind me, I could see a larger door, and traces of a rising sun beyond it.

She took my hand, pulling me up and leading me to the fireplace. Not speaking, she picked up a handful of Floo powder, and we entered the grate, heading for home.

We landed in Olivia’s rooms. The rooms up on the sixth floor that I had never been able to discover. I had long since given up trying to find them, knowing that she’d find me when she wanted to. I was speechless, and looked again at Olivia, waiting for her to tell me why she had brought me here. Why now, after all this time? Was she going to open the door to admit the Order members who would, no doubt, have been ordered to deliver me to Azkaban to await a trial?

“Why have you brought me here, Olivia?”

“It’s where you have to be, Severus. No one will find you here, and you have to speak to Harry Potter.”

“He’ll be heading the search party,” I replied, exasperated. “And it would be no challenge, my being right here under his nose. He has a map that will show him precisely where I am!”

“I know about that map,” she said in her unhurried, unfrazzled way. “I already told you this room is hidden, even from that map.”

“And you’re simply going to solve all my problems for me, is that it?” I found my feet and began pacing around her sitting room, glancing out the window at the grounds I had so recently considered my home. I could never feel that way again.

“Severus, I can’t solve any problems for you. I just thought it might be better to bring Potter here, and make sure he understands what really happened.”

“Perhaps it would simplify things if you simply delivered me to my grave?”

“Do you think your purpose in life is over, now that Albus is dead?”

It hit me again, when she said that, like a boulder dropping onto my supine body from above. Albus was dead, and it was I who had killed him. If I were to stand here, wandless, and allow Potter to find me here...let him use his newly-learned Sectumsempra Curse...wouldn’t it provide relief for all of us?

I sank wearily back to the sofa, unable to find reason to move, to think. It made no sense, my being here. Let her go find Potter. Let him come here to kill me; I would not resist. I would even tell him where he could find at least one more Horcrux. I would not be tracking it down now.

I felt her behind me, felt her hands on my shoulders, working away the tension I hadn’t even realized was there. I couldn’t even summon the will to drive her away. I let my mind wander aimlessly over my past life...the times in my early childhood that I had searched for friends, only to be ridiculed by the neighborhood youth for my ragged clothing and drunken father...the summers I had returned home for the holiday, only to find that nothing had changed...the limited and wretched circle of future dark wizards I’d been a part of in school...the humiliations I’d suffered at the hands of the popular students...the hope I’d had when I had finally become a part of the Dark Lord’s world...

I closed my eyes as her hands eased my buttons open. It had been an awful few days since the struggle that had taken place within these very walls. I hadn’t slept in all that time; it had been difficult, finding the best place to hide the Malfoys. Feeding lies to Pettigrew to explain my distance from the Dark Lord, I had avoided facing him. I knew I couldn’t hide forever. I would have to die, but I believe I preferred that Potter do it, rather than my erstwhile master. Potter, I knew, wouldn’t have me writhing endlessly in pain before finally killing me.

I felt Olivia’s warm hands gently caressing my neck; her touch evoked a sense of peace within me, and I didn’t deserve it. What her hands should have been doing is tightening, squeezing the life from me.

She moved her hands lower to my chest; her touch becoming more demanding. I should have been too tired to respond, but I suppose I was really too tired to avoid responding. She was so easily draining away what small measure of will I still had. As she teased the flesh under my coat, I shifted my legs to produce some room for the result of her seduction. She leaned closer behind me and I felt her soft breath on my neck.

“This room is Unplottable, Severus,” she whispered. “You knew that, didn’t you? Hadn’t you spent most of the year when we first met, just searching for it?”

The witch knew all about my forays through the sixth floor, and no doubt, my useless attempts to have cornered her in her classroom. She must have known how desperate I’d been to find her. Why, then, had she hidden from me? I no longer cared. If she wanted to tell me what games she’d been playing, then so be it. It could make no difference now.

“All that waiting, that frustration...” she was saying. “It gave you energy, didn’t it? It gave you something to work at.”

“A good revitalizing potion could have done the same thing,” I murmured.

“But it wouldn’t have been as enjoyable, would it?”

I reached up, pulling her across the back of the sofa to fall to my lap. “You did that because you wanted to see me obsess over you? You enjoyed watching me go mad with wanting?”

“I did that because I enjoy going mad and obsessing over you,” she said, not a trace of guile in her emerald eyes. “I did it because I knew it was the only way to hold your attention. And I wanted your attention.”

She had it. I gazed into her eyes, hypnotized. I wanted to lose myself inside that light; it had once promised me life. I didn’t break contact with her intense stare as she shifted, sitting on my lap, sliding her legs to each side of mine. She opened my coat and shirt, pushing them away from my shoulders, all the while holding my eyes with hers.

She slowly put her lips to my throat, breaking the spell. I closed my eyes, winding my fingers through her soft tresses, savoring the heat she was bringing to my skin. She kissed me so tenderly, and I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.

She moved her soft cheek past the rough stubble of my jaw, delicately touching her lips to mine. I hesitantly kissed her lips open to taste her, and felt the thrill of warmth rush through me as she pulled my tongue in, stroking it with hers. Her hands were firmly smoothing over my chest, and as she wriggled on my lap, I could feel my hardness straining to get free from my trousers.

She leaned away from me slightly, and I drew in a deep breath as I felt her finger defining a sharp line over my erection, down over my aching balls. Always, she had known just how to touch me, how to make me groan with wanting...

I felt her fumbling with my belt buckle; I let her go, not helping, not hindering. If that’s what she wanted to do, I hadn’t the will to stop her. I never had. But I knew she could find a better companion. As she pushed aside my trousers to take me in her hands, I wondered what crime she had committed that caused her to be ordered here at my side. It would have had to be something unforgivable, to have given her such a sentence.

She stroked me, using her fingers and palm in the way she’d learned I responded to so well, and I moaned out my indifference. She cupped my balls in her other hand, lifting them, massaging them, and I gasped out my reluctance for her to continue. She spread pre-cum around the head, tracing each groove and crevice, and I pushed my hips up to her to convince her to stop.

As I lifted myself up slightly from the sofa, she slipped her hands around my hips and pulled my trousers down to mid-thigh, freeing me from the obstruction of wool and linen. As her hands again grasped my heated core, she leaned into me, moving her petal-like lips over the pulse in my throat.

Ohh...her hands were so talented...I stretched my arms across the back of the sofa and leaned my head back as she licked and nibbled at the hollow just under my ear. My heart, which I never really expected to feel again, began to pound. I could feel the tension growing throughout my body as my muscles worked with her, helping her to reach every inch of me, moving my hips upward as she stroked down, shuddering a little as she stroked up.

I felt her lips moving down to my chest, and as she sucked lightly at my nipple, I gasped and took her face in my hands. I kissed her, thrusting my tongue deep and fast into her mouth, yielding to her superior will. I showed her with my tongue, with my lips, my hands, that I needed her. I wanted what she was giving me; the vacuum I’d known for the last few days was death, and I wanted life. I wanted the light in her eyes, the racing of my blood through my veins, and the pounding of my heart in my chest.

I moved my hands to the front of her robes, slowly unclasping the fastenings and pushing aside the luxurious material. She was wearing a thin shirt underneath that zipped up the front, the tab being marked with a silver hoop. It looked like an invitation, and I slipped my finger into the hoop, drawing it down, past her lacy bra, past her flat stomach. Finding a catch between her breasts, I worked it until it opened, and I pushed aside the lace, cupping her warm, heavy breasts in my appreciative hands, teasing her nipples with my thumbs.

She had been toying with my hard cock all the while, and as I pulled down the zip of her jeans, she released her grip on my cock to shake her jeans off of one leg. The mere five seconds it took were five seconds too long for her hands to ignore me, and I was breathing hard as she settled back down on my legs, reaching for me once again. I seized her hips, squeezing my fingers against her bottom, directing her to come down upon me, but she again let go of my protesting erection to push my hands away. She bent to tease, once again, my nipples, and I could not argue with her.

I gripped the back of the sofa with my hands, content to let her have her way. Although I felt as if I would explode at any moment, I also knew that she was more than able to control me. I began to have doubts, however, when she shifted so that her hips were closer to mine. As I felt the heat of her intimately near me, I groaned, and I could feel all my energies building up inside me, gathering at my core.

“Yes! Oh, gods, yes...” The words were ripped from me as she pushed herself against me, riding up the side of my shaft. I felt her hot juices coating me, heating me. She was dripping wet, and I wondered how it was possible anyone could feel that excited with me even in the same room. I heard the upholstery rip as I gathered my hands into fists, fighting to refrain from grabbing her.

I squeezed my eyes shut in gratitude as she lifted herself to position my begging cock right at her opening. As her tight heat slowly--oh my gods, so tortuously, incredibly, slowly--engulfed me, I groaned my need to the ceiling. She kept descending upon me, her movement never changing pace, until I could feel her innermost depths. She sighed deeply, giving her pelvis a twitch, and as I felt her stretch for me, I ripped the stuffing from her sofa.

She put her hands on my shoulders, balancing herself and using me as leverage as she began to move up on me. I looked into her eyes, entranced by the glazed green glow in them, and used all my strength not to thrust upward. It was a struggle; she was moving upward as deliberately as she’d moved downward, and I could feel the strain in every muscle as I fought to remain still.

She lifted herself from me completely, but before I could react, she again took me into her. As she painstakingly inched down upon me, pausing with just the tip of me in her, I felt her muscles clinch around me. I could feel the cords in my neck standing out, and my moaning gasp could barely leave my throat. She eased down on me, once more wriggling against me when she hit bottom.

I knew I was a strong man, but Atlas himself could not have withstood this barbaric torment. Letting go of what remained of the sofa, I reached for her, taking her breast in my hand, her nipple in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, chafing it until I could hear her moans in my ear. With my other hand, I reached down to search for her nub, feeling again the hot, liquid proof of her excitement. I spread those juices all around, teasing her until I could feel her pace quicken. She was searching for my probing finger, all too willing now to feel everything.

I felt her hands tighten painfully on my shoulders, and I kissed her neck, sucking at the tender skin at her throat. I could feel the vibrations within as she moaned, as she began chanting my name. Until I knew her, I had never known my name could sound so erotic...

I began thrusting my hips up as she slammed down on me. I tried to open my legs wider so I could better brace myself to pound into her, but my pants were still holding me trapped. Not wanting to take the precious few seconds to move them down past my knees, I did what I could, pulling her hips down to me and frantically rubbing her clit.

Her fingernails were gouging into my shoulders, and her cries were setting me aflame. I knew she was almost there, and I was concentrating on her, not wanting to get there first. But she reached behind her back, and I felt her hand between my legs, taking hold of my tight ball sac. Oh, gods, she put just a little bit of pressure...I felt them lift, and I called out her name, begging her to come with me...

I felt the intensity inside her as she clenched tightly around me; her heat climbed so quickly that I was surprised into my own explosion. I ground my thumb over her clit, and my hips began bucking into her; I felt a pull as well as the convulsive release of my seed and I yelled out as I let go. I thrust deep into her again, and then I felt her rippling spasms gripping me, the waves of her orgasm pulsing around me, clenching me again and again...

It seemed to last forever; I gave one last thrust, and it seemed to trigger something inside of her. She breathlessly gasped as yet another wave consumed her, and set everything inside her into motion again. As I was still inside her, and so sensitive to her every tic, her every nuance, I groaned out tremulously as she gripped me anew. I felt another tidal wave of energy rip through me, and as it ran its course, I put my mouth on her throat and bit down. I’d had no idea men could do that more than once.

I fell, exhausted, to the sofa back, my neck too tired to support my head. She leaned forward, and I cupped her head, holding her to my bleeding shoulder. For a long time, the only sounds were the two of us trying to catch our breath. I could almost hear our hearts beating.

An eon later, I felt her move, and I let go of her so she could sit up. So she could try to sit up. She was very shaky, and I knew how she felt. I took her in my arms and moved her from my lap so she could sit on the sofa next to me. I watched as she took a deep breath, letting it go. She smiled up at me.

“You’re kinda good at this, Severus,” she said, smiling impishly.

It was at that moment I knew that I loved her.


	9. What Hope Could There Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus falls into a deep depression when contemplating his role.

Chapter 9  
What Hope Could There Be?

13th, June

“I thought it was your job to watch over me, somehow,” I told her. “That someone had sent you here to help me do whatever it was that I was supposed to do. When I had to kill Albus, I began to think it was the Dark Lord himself who’d sent you.”

She narrowed her eyes at me then, and I knew I had insulted her. “I came here because Albus had offered me a job,” she said. “I haven’t been sent by anyone.”

I didn’t know if I believed it; Albus had a way of manipulating the people around him without their knowing of it, and Olivia had saved my soul too often over the last couple of years for me to put our relationship down to serendipity. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he explained it all to me before things had gotten so tragically intense? I realize now that Albus had orchestrated his death. He may not have known himself when it would happen, but there was no doubt in my mind now that he knew it would. I felt the heavy weight of depression settle again upon my shoulders as I remembered the wizard that I had once thought would live forever. She had been watching me carefully, and must have seen my thoughts in my eyes.

“Come on, Severus; you don’t really believe he’s dead, do you?”

It took me a while to register her words. I’d always believed she knew things the rest of us didn’t. The very fact that she uttered the words that I’m sure I heard was enough to give me hope. I tried to speak, cleared my throat twice, and tried again.

“What makes you think he might still be alive? I killed him myself. The Killing Curse has never failed before. And I did aim at him. I felt the curse leave me, leave my wand.”

“Are you sure that curse had never failed before?”

I strove to remember everything I’d ever heard involving that particular curse. The only thing I could recall about failure was Potter’s report after fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry. He’d tried to curse Bellatrix Lestrange, but she’d easily blocked the curse.

“Potter tried it once,” I told Olivia. “But it didn’t work because he really hadn’t wanted it to work.”

“Neither did you, Severus.”

“But he died. I saw him die.”

“What, exactly, did you see?”

“He rose slightly into the air, suspended there for a moment. Then his body flew over the walls of the Astronomy Tower to fall to the ground below.”

“Have you ever seen anyone suspended after that curse? Don’t they normally just fall where they stand?”

I looked at her, but my mind was racing. In all the years, ever since I’d first seen that curse in action… She was right; one does not float after being hit with the Killing Curse.

“But his funeral was yesterday. I’d watched from my hidden perch at the top of the Whomping Willow as his coffin burst into flames.”

“Did you see anything other than the flames?” she asked, searching my eyes. “Did you see what Potter saw?”

“How do you know what Potter saw?”

“I’ve already spoken with him, Severus. We had a good, long talk.”

“And what have you told him? What did he see?”

“I only told him what Albus has been trying to get through his head since his first year here. Nothing is as it appears. And he saw a flash of something shooting away from the coffin, just as it began to burn.”

“What was it?”

“Can’t you guess? Severus, his medium was a phoenix! Were you already too far away to hear Fawkes singing the night Albus died? Everyone seems to think it was a song of sorrow for Albus, but how many actually understand the phoenix as well as Albus did? How do we know it wasn’t a song guiding Albus back to us?”

“Are you telling me that you expect him to be...reborn...in some way?” Impossible. Albus had always claimed a limited knowledge of Horcruxes, and his work with Flammel and the Sorcerer’s Stone had convinced the old wizard that he wanted nothing to do with immortality.

“In some way…yes.”

How dare she put such hope into my heart this way! I knew Albus hadn’t believed anyone should have the dubious power of immortality. He’d had several rows with Flammel, all those times he’d tried to dissuade his old friend from using the Stone. And he would never have split his own soul to ensure he could prevent his own death. But perhaps she was speaking metaphorically.

“If I were to invade his office, would I see him in a portrait overlooking his desk?”

“I think the portrait would have to be placed there, wouldn’t it? Had he ever sat for a portrait?”

“I believe one was done of him when he was first appointed as the headmaster. Is that how he’s to come back?”

“I don’t know, Severus.”

I glared at her, disappointed at the uncertain answers she was giving me. Foolish of me, I suppose, that I expected omniscience from her. Perhaps I simply didn’t want to learn that she was no more special than any of us.

I took in her features, noting the circles under her normally bright eyes and the heaviness of her eyelids. Her shoulders drooped in fatigue, and she held her head as if it weighed a stone. She hadn’t seemed to sleep at all last night; every time I’d awoken, my heart thumping painfully in my chest and a shout nearly escaping me, she was there to calm me. Her gentle fingers would comb through my hair, her soft voice urging me back to sleep.

I felt horrible. I kept taking and taking from her, never giving anything back. Who was there to comfort her? Who brushed away her worries? How long could she go on, taking the weight of my worries from my shoulders onto her own? Did she ever regret becoming involved with me, with my problems?

I moved to sit next to her on the sofa, reaching up to touch her face. She met my eyes, and I was amazed to see her eyes brighten, her smile showing off her white teeth. How could she still smile at me? How could some hidden energy galvanize her, removing all traces of fatigue from her countenance? And if this was a mask worn for my benefit, did it mean that her exhaustion had been hidden from me all this time?

“You need to sleep, Olivia. But we were lucky that Potter saw no need to study his map last night. We have to leave the castle.”

“Let’s go home, then. No one can find us there.”

I thought about the house I’d seen in our brief stopover before Flooing here yesterday. Would she rest more comfortably in her own home?

Standing, reaching out for her hand, I promised her silently that I would watch over her for a change. I would see to it that nothing disturbed her rest, be it an inquisitive neighbor, a nightmare, or anything that goes bump in the night.

She followed me placidly to the fireplace, and I waited for her to take the Floo powder and voice our destination. I was surprised to hear her words; I never would have guessed she lived in Clophill. And yet, why not? There was a haunted priory near that quiet village. She probably felt right at home there.

We entered her sitting room, and she headed for the kitchen. Taking the opportunity to look over her home, I found an interesting library off the sitting room. Checking the books she’d left lying on the table, I saw that she’d been researching the Dark Arts. Her books rivaled my own collection, and she had a few that I had not been successful finding myself. I was going to enjoy staying here...

I picked up a Latin textbook, moving her bookmark and perusing the page. Verb conjugation. Looking over the words on the page didn’t enlighten me as to her reason for this particular study, so I replaced the book and left the room.

I was amused to notice the shelf of books next to her bedroom door. This witch clearly never borrowed a book; she simply purchased it and added it to her massive collection. Noting that she read both magical and Muggle authors, both reference and fiction, I wondered how she found time for anything else.

Pushing open the bedroom door, I took in the furnishings. An involuntary smile came to my lips as I rested my eyes on the double bed. Dare I share it with her tonight? Would I be able to keep awake to watch over her if I was surrounded by such soft and silken comfort?

Hearing her reenter the sitting room, I turned guiltily from the bedroom. She was setting a tray of tea things down on the low table, and I took a seat on the sofa as she poured a cup for me.

“Do you think caffeine is a good idea right now? Won’t it keep you awake?”

“I don’t feel all that tired anyway, Severus. Besides, if I were as tired as you seem to think, all the caffeine in the world would make no difference.”

“I noticed that you’re reviewing Latin,” I said, hoping she’d tell me what she was researching. “Are you looking for anything I might be able to help you with?”

“Rector Abnepos Belligero.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “There seems to be a few words missing.”

“I suppose that the one who wrote it didn’t really mean for just anyone to find it and translate it. What’s your interpretation of it?”

“The leader, through his great-great grandson, will wage war.”

“Are you sure of it?” she asked, her eyes penetrating mine. Clearly, this was important, and she didn’t trust her own judgment of it.

“Well, it’s either ‘through’ or ‘with’. The meaning is more implied than stated. Where did you find these words?”

“Potter found a broken locket near Albus’ body, and a note with it. The note stated that the author had found the Dark Lord’s Horcrux and had replaced it with this one, and the author hoped that when the Dark Lord met his match, he would be mortal once more. The letters, ‘R.A.B.’ were there as if in place of a signature.”

“Why don’t you believe the ‘R.A.B.’ is indeed a signature?”

“Because I believe the locket was Albus’, and the ‘R.A.B.’ merely a final threat to Voldemort.”

“Think very carefully about what the note said,” I told her. “Did it say, ‘the Dark Lord’? Those specific words?”

“As far as Potter can recall, yes.”

“Then I rather doubt it was Albus who wrote it,” I said, disappointed. “He would have referred to him as Riddle. And the ‘R.A.B.’ could have been Black’s brother. He had left the Dark Lord’s ranks some years ago, but it is believed that he had died since.”

“I feel very strongly that the letters represent a final note to the Dark Lord,” she insisted. “However, if that’s the case, I suppose he would have had to be sure that the locket found its way to him, instead of Potter.”

“If those were Albus’ words,” I pointed out, “then who is the great-great grandson? Who is the leader?”

“How far back has Potter ever traced his family tree?”

“You don’t think…” My mind refused to accept such a concept. Albus related somehow to that Potter brat? His great grandson was James? Preposterous. She was clutching at straws. She really was tired, and I set my cup down firmly, standing and drawing her up with me.

“Come, Olivia. A good night’s sleep will clear the cobwebs, and you can laugh at your folly over breakfast in the morning.”

She grinned at me, not offended in the least by my doubts. She allowed me to steer her into her room, and then she stood by the side of her bed, as if waiting. Not sure what she was thinking, I began slowly unbuttoning her blouse, watching her eyes. How was it possible that my life-line…that light in her eyes…could still glow so brightly?

I could feel her lust emanating from her in waves. There was the slightest tremor in my fingers as I pushed her buttons through their buttonholes. She stood there, not moving, but her eyes never left mine, the slight smile never left her lips. She shrugged her shoulders a bit when I pulled her blouse from her, but otherwise left me to my own devices.

I noted the sharp relief of her collarbone; she’d lost weight recently, and again, I felt as though I was too demanding, too needy. She could have a much easier time of it if she were to get involved with someone else--almost anyone else. If I were the man I should be, I would push her away from me, cause her to leave me forever.

But I knew my weaknesses as no one else did.

And so I pushed her blouse from her shoulders. I moved my fingers lightly over the lacy cups of her brassiere, taking an eternity, my patience rewarded by the quick intake of her breath, her trembling body belying her unspoken claim of indifference.

Seeing these almost invisible signs of a passion soon to break loose, I knew I could control my own level. Why it worked this way, I don’t know, nor do I care. I put my hands on her shoulders, smoothing the straps away to fall loosely to her arms. I savored the feel of her skin beneath my hands. I could feel the heat of her burning my palms, the infinitesimal hum of energy flowing through her body at my touch.

Leaving the straps of her bra to tickle her arms, I drew an invisible line down between her breasts, across her midriff, and down to linger teasingly at the waistband of her pants. Glancing higher, I could see, just above her hard nipples, that her breath was coming faster, though she was struggling to control it. I slipped two fingers into her waistband, my thumb resting on the snap. I tugged lightly, pausing as if the task of opening this fastening was beyond me. Glancing quickly up, I caught a hint of impatience in her eyes, and I hid the smile that threatened my lips.

Moving my fingers, I could feel the material of her panties, and I allowed one finger to slip under the elastic there. She hitched in her breath, and I pulled more energetically at the snap, feeling it give way at last. I used my fingers and thumb to push apart the material, the zip yielding easily. The heavy weight of the denim caused her jeans to slip easily down past her small hips, and I let go as they dropped lower down her legs. She shifted, encouraging them to continue falling, then kicked them away.

I waited until she stood still once more before touching my fingers again to the elastic of her panties, drawing circles over the satiny scrap of cloth. I stepped closer to her, moving my hands behind her, smoothing them over her bottom and pulling her against my arousal. I lowered my lips to hers, brushing past them softly and following the line of her jaw to that hollow just under her ear. Nibbling gently, I fought the sudden flare of passion she triggered in me with her breathless moan. I tried to ignore the immobilizing thrill of desire pulsing through me as her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair and massaging my scalp.

I reached up to unsnap her bra, pulling it away from her and looking my fill. She was so beautiful…her hard nipples were the color of a fading rose, and her skin was flawless, inviting me to taste. I cupped her breasts, marveling at the way their weight in my hands made everything more real to me, somehow. Feeling her tangible presence, the tactile proof of her existence, worked better than anything else at convincing me I wasn’t going to wake up in the next few moments, beside myself with depression and frustration upon learning it was all a wonderful dream.

I used my thumbs and index fingers to tease her hard little nipples, and when she gasped suddenly, I was again made aware of her tightly controlled passion, her determination to give herself over to me, awaiting my every move. I quickly shot my hands down to the little scrap of satin still covering her, pulling it away and letting it fall to where she kicked it off her legs.

I gripped her upper arms firmly, claiming her lips with mine and tasting the heat and sweetness of her mouth. She moaned around my thrusting tongue, and I shifted until I could push her down to sit on the edge of the bed. Straightening up, I stepped back as she pushed herself to the middle of the bed, and I could see that her legs had begun to tremble, matching the uneven pulse in her throat.

I reached up to the high collar buttons on my shirt, watching her as I tugged them open. My fingers weren’t cooperating; perhaps I was already losing my rigid control. I forced myself to keep my movements steady, my masculine pride not quite willing for her to see the depths to which she affected me tonight.

As she must have remembered how slowly I could strip down, she blew out her breath impatiently and reached out for me. With an acrobatic shift in her stance, she pulled me to her, and with a graceful twist of her body, I found myself sprawled over the bed as she hovered over me, her breasts heaving with her efforts and the passion that was fighting to overtake her.

I had no desire to stop what she was doing. I lay back and watched her nibble her lower lip as she struggled to unbutton my shirt. Muttering words I couldn’t make out, she suddenly ripped open my shirt; my erection throbbed as I listened to the buttons hitting the far wall of the room. I worked my way out of my shoes as she went to work on my belt. I reached to help her unbuckle it, knowing she wouldn’t be able to tear through the leather.

I lifted my hips so she could remove my trousers, shrugging off my shirt as she tossed them away. Somehow, some way, she’d removed my socks as well, and I tried to steady my breathing to a more normal rhythm as she leaned over me, her hands hot on my chest.

She slowly moved her trembling hands over the breadth of my chest, down across my stomach, and my throat closed, restricting my breath as she neared my jutting erection. I could feel her hands on me before she gripped me--my body remembered her touch so well. She, almost without actual contact, stroked me, and I heard a stranger’s voice moaning from my own throat.

As one of her hands cupped my balls, lifting, her other hand tightening around my cock, I squeezed my eyes shut and gathered the quilt into my fists. She put a hand against each of my legs, pushing them farther apart. It was such an incredibly erotic feeling, and my cock jerked in response.

“Olivia…” It was the only thing I was capable of saying. I forgot every other word in the English language, and I mutely begged her to understand how much I needed her, how much I wanted her. I wanted her to touch me all over, all at once. I wanted to touch her all over as well, but at that moment, I was afraid to let go of the quilt that was bunched in my fists, for fear of hurting her in my intense need.

She leaned over me, taking me into her hot mouth. My hips bucked up, and she must have known this would happen; she sucked at precisely the same time and I was no longer capable of coherent thought. I let go of the quilt and took her in my too-tightly-gripping hands, slamming her down to the bed and covering her with my over-heated body.

I pushed my leg between hers, and when I felt her legs tightening around mind in a vice-grip, I moved against her, brushing her nipples with my chest to distract her. I was beyond being able to mentally list potion ingredients or envision any revolting mental images, and I didn’t know that I could last long enough to enter her. At the very idea of how cheated we would be if that happened, I touched my lips to the wildly beating pulse in the tender column of her throat, gently biting her.

As I had hoped, it distracted her and she eased up slightly. I maneuvered my other leg between hers, pushing outward to encourage her to spread open for me. She moved her legs up over mine, angling her hips just perfectly, inviting me inside.

I needed no more than that; I pushed into her, once again amazed at how her body expressed her varying levels of passion. As slippery as she was, as hard as I was, it was still quite an effort to penetrate. I groaned out loud as every muscle strained to get me where I wanted to be. As I penetrated deeper, she hitched her hips, adjusting the angle to draw me in even more. I lay still, waiting for all of my body to catch up, to coordinate, so I could bring her with me for the rest of this journey.

I rocked my pelvis slightly, pulling out from her, only to ram back into her so suddenly that her surprised shout was loud in my ear. I pulled out again deliberately, moving my hips in a circular pattern over hers before shoving deeply into her again. I felt her legs enfolding each of mine, and she used her taut muscles to persuade mine farther apart.

This gave our union a freedom of movement I wasn’t used to feeling. I began to shift over her, using every part of me to touch her everywhere I could. I made love to her everywhere, and as her hands tightened over my back, over my shoulders, her hips rocked to match every move I made; her legs gripped my hips; her hips moved to help her inner muscles milk me relentlessly. I could feel my impending eruption building inside of me, and I helplessly followed along as my body took over my will.

I began to plunge into her quickly, struggling to speak coherently enough for her to understand my words. Pleading with her to come with me, I grunted out the harsh, guttural words. She knew by my movements that I couldn’t slow down; I could tell that she didn’t want me to. She twisted beneath me as the pressure in her increased along with my thrusts. I could feel her carnal flames burning me within; her inner grip on me tightened. As her nails scored tracks over the flesh of my back, her body caught fire; she clenched tightly around me.

I felt the surge of her body as her orgasm hit her; she bucked and writhed in reaction, setting off my own climax. It began as an explosion from somewhere deep inside me, and with each wave of ejaculation, I slammed deep inside of her, shuddering at the feeling of my very soul merging with hers. Gasping out the last of my breath at the same time as I pulsed out the last of my semen, I locked my shoulders to prevent collapsing upon her.

I touched my lips to her forehead, tasting her salty flesh, moaning each time her muscles clenched me all the while I remained inside her. I finally pulled out, falling to her side and rolling over onto my back.

Reaching out for her, I brought her to lie against me, her heaving breasts upon my chest, her hair spread out over my shoulder and tickling my face.

Concentrating, I murmured a few words to allow us to seep like liquid to lie below the quilt so that it was finally covering us. The sweat on our bodies had already allowed the relative coolness of the room bring out gooseflesh on our skin. Relaxing in the luxury of holding her body against mine, I began to drift off, almost missing her whispered words.

“I love you, Severus…”


	10. Not all Dark Magic is Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help from an unexpected source.

Chapter 10  
Not All Dark Magic is Dark

8th, July

I had known it would happen eventually. The disgusting mark on my arm came to life shortly before dawn this morning, and I frantically tried to mentally rehearse my prepared speech to the Dark Lord as I transfigured my robes into the traditional attire he demanded of his followers. It took three attempts to Transfigure Olivia’s hair clip into a suitable mask, so frenzied were my thoughts.

By the time I was prepared to leave to answer this long-anticipated summons, Olivia had wrapped a robe around herself and stood silently, her worry evident in her eyes. That I should see such concern unnerved me; I supposed I had hoped to see confidence there instead. It frightened me that this witch, this angel, my protector, had no real idea what was to come. I lifted my trembling fingers to her face, smoothing over the softness of her cheek.

“How bad could it be?” I asked rhetorically. “I did, after all, carry out his wishes, even though he seems to think I don’t know he planned it that way.”

“You don’t suppose he’d use it as an excuse to…well… Oh, gods, Severus, has he ever behaved as if he was dissatisfied with you? Would he have reason to…to do away with you?”

“I’m valuable to him,” I assured her. “As long as I can continue to be, he’ll not let anything fatal happen to me. More’s the pity.”

“Don’t talk that way, Severus,” she said. “And why can’t I follow you somehow? I’m not totally defenseless, you know.”

Since we’d had this same discussion several times in the past couple of nights, I didn’t bother to answer, other than to roll my eyes at her. What was wrong with her reasoning lately? That I should allow that maniac to discover there was someone, anyone, that I cared about…that the Dark Lord should learn of my Achilles’ heel…

Pivoting about and walking a few steps away from her, I prepared to Disapparate in that special way, using the Dark Mark. Just before I touched the pattern necessary to go to wherever he now made his home, Olivia stepped close and pressed her lips to mine. I could almost taste desperation in her kiss, and again, I had to force myself to continue. I didn’t want to leave.

It wasn’t just the fear that I could feel emanating from her. It wasn’t simply the natural urge to keep to what was safe, secure, and inviting. It was the realization that if anything should happen to me, Olivia would be a lost soul, wandering until perhaps some other desperate soul claimed a need for her. It was her karma, I deduced. She needed to be needed. In that flash of an instant before my fingers automatically traced a pattern on the Dark Mark, I felt my heart rip, knowing that, if ever my world righted itself, Olivia might just have to leave me, as my need of her special solace would be much less than it had been in the last few years.

As I mentally braced myself to face my erstwhile master, I thought briefly that it might be worth my while to ensure that he lived on. Knowing what I knew of Potter’s strengths, and how much he’d learned about the Horcruxes, would it be possible to prevent the war from escalating? To stop Potter from facing down the Dark Lord?

Perhaps all it would take would be to tell the Dark Lord that Potter knew about the Horcruxes. Further security measures could be taken, and we could all enjoy the status quo, if enjoy was the proper word to use in these troubled times.

As a cloudy image of Albus entered my consciousness, I came to stop in a copse of trees surrounded by a meadow. The morning sun was just pushing its way up from the horizon in the distance. Shutting my eyes briefly against the image of Albus censuring me, I followed a worn path out of the woods, joining the group that was already beginning to assemble.

Not even interested in the faces behind the masks, I reported to the Dark Lord, bending to kiss the hem of his robes. It was all done automatically, as I fought to pull my thoughts under my tight control. Looking up into his eyes, eyes that finally appeared just a little more human than they had the last time I’d been in his presence, I felt the cold, invasive probe of his Legilimency.

Pushing to the front of my mind feelings of exasperation, frustration, and confusion, I shielded all the other feelings and memories away from his mentally raping probe, and was satisfied that he learned nothing from me that I hadn’t wanted him to know. He leaned back, sated, and I rose to take my place in line with the others.

The general mood of the meadow that morning was one of celebration. Albus Dumbledore was dead, and they all seemed to believe the road ahead was free from obstruction. The fools acted as if they’d never heard of Harry Potter, and seemed to forget the mighty wizard who had been his supervisor and mentor these last several years. It would serve them all right to be taken by surprise.

I watched, only mildly interested, as Pettigrew was brought to stand before the Dark Lord in order to explain why he hadn’t been harboring the Malfoys. Knowing it would be my turn next, I forced myself to listen to Pettigrew’s excuses. Of course, he would blame everything on me. Even in his ignorance, he knew it was my fault the Malfoys had escaped.

As I moved to the center of our circle to answer accusations, I squared my shoulders and pasted the expected sneer upon my face.

“I can only explain my actions by stating that I never really believed the task set before young Draco, my lord. At the time, he’d not yet fully joined these ranks, and I thought his claim that you personally had given him this assignment was just a show of bravado; I couldn’t believe that someone so young and inexperienced would be trusted with such a difficult task.

“When I promised Narcissa that I would accomplish Draco’s task should he fail to do so, it never occurred to me that it would be something so monumental as killing Albus Dumbledore. By the time events led to that moment, I finished what Draco could not. There seemed to be nothing to gain by not doing so, as my cover as a respected teacher at Hogwarts was blown by then anyway.”

“And why did you leave Harry Potter behind, where I could not reach him?” the voice thundered back. “I have already heard from two others that you had the opportunity to bring him to me, yet you left Hogwarts without him.”

“With the confusion and chaos happening all around us, my lord, I must confess that I erred by leaving him there. At the time, I was thinking about how formidable he’d become in the past year, and quickly decided that it would be more prudent to step back and plan a better strategy.”

“Formidable!” came the insulted bellow. “Potter? You grow weak in the head, my faithful, yet deluded servant. You must learn not to make decisions for me.”

I braced myself for the pain of an angry megalomaniac’s Cruciatus. But when it didn’t come, I focused upon the upraised wand before me, blinking at the surprised look of terror on the still-reptilian face. Following his stare, I whipped around to see a small, glowing beacon, darting around, waves of color radiating from it.

Cries of pain were filling the early morning air, and the sickeningly sweet smell of burning flesh assailed my nostrils. I hit the ground even before my conscious mind willed it, hoping to duck this unknown threat in our midst. Looking up, I watched as the dreaded Dark Lord, the self-proclaimed god, the seemingly most powerful wizard in the world, took to his heels and ran. He seemed to be escaping blindly, and as the colors arced to his right, he veered left. As another splash of rainbow came near his left, he pivoted quickly and headed right, much as a frightened thestral would escape a fire in the forest.

Looking back at the others, I saw that most had not wasted time wondering about this new development; they’d Disapparated back to their dark lives, where no colors threatened them. I saw a lump of flesh about two meters in front of me. As the beacon was still pursuing the Dark Lord, I got to my feet, brushing myself off, and approached Pettigrew. He was moaning, and there were tendrils of smoke wafting from his charred body. He’d taken one of those bursts of color right to his backside, and I vowed right then and there that I would not be the one to nurse him back to health.

Leaving him to rot, for all I cared, I drew my wand and Disapparated, like the rest. I took the precaution of traveling to four other sites before making my way back to Clophill, just in case our newest enemy decided to follow.

Olivia was not in her sitting room. Looking around, stilling my breath so that I might hear the faintest sound, I followed my ears to the bathroom door. Quietly pulling down the handle, I pushed it open slightly, and relaxed when I saw that she was showering.

And what a shower it was! She’d conjured up a brook and was standing, facing away from me, under a waterfall that was separated by the rocks above into a falling mist on one side, a gushing torrent on the other. She was under the mist, working lather through her hair.

I put my hand on the door frame and leaned against it, my other hand still on the door. Her eyes were closed, and I have never known anyone to enjoy a shampoo as much as Olivia was enjoying this one. I was mesmerized.

I saw her reach out her hand, saw the bar of soap shoot over to her. She caught it deftly, and began rubbing it over her shoulders and down her arms. I could almost feel the satiny-smooth wetness of her skin under her soapy hands. She brought her hands to her breasts, and her movements slowed. She tilted back her head, and I began to harden, watching her play the suds over her firm orbs, her eyes shutting as her fingers tweaked the hard nipples.

As I stared, entranced, she lowered her hands slowly, sensuously down her torso. I almost protested audibly when, abruptly, she swerved away from where she’d been headed and moved to her back instead. Her agile arms reached to soap up her back, and again, her movements slowed as she headed lower. As she began to massage the soap over her delectable rear, my hand left the door and found its way to the bulge in my trousers. I lightly smoothed over my erection, merely to shift it to a more comfortable position in its confinement.

My hands so wanted to be where hers were. She gripped her rounded bottom, kneading, pulling, and I gripped myself in answer. As she moved slowly, teasing herself, my hands followed her pace as I cupped my aching balls, lifting and kneading them, imitating her every move.

I was panting by the time her hands began to inch to her front. Since her back was turned to me, I couldn’t see every detail of what she was doing, but I knew. I could tell by the movements of her arms what her fingers were doing, and my guesses were confirmed as she lifted her head to the ceiling and moaned softly. I could barely hear it above the spray of the water; it was more of a feeling in my chest. When she moved her legs apart to give herself room, I yanked open my fly and thrust my hand inside, gripping. As her arm moved more purposefully, I stroked. As she leaned forward, grabbing the rock ledge before her for support, gasping, I moaned aloud, pumping my fist. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as she threw back her head, gasping, shuddering. I had never before witnessed a woman enjoying her body, and I could see that Olivia was a woman who truly did know what her body wanted.

Suddenly, she whipped around to face me, a knowing smile on her face. She’d known I was watching her, and she glanced down to where my hand had frozen in surprise. She waded out of the brook, and I was powerless to move. She gripped me by the front of my robes and pulled me into the room, pushing me back against the wall. Looking behind her, she called out, “Accio, drink!”

A glass filled with crushed ice and what looked like iced tea flew to her waiting hand, and she took in a mouthful, glancing up at me. Bending to set the glass on the floor next to us, she then knelt before me. Before my fevered mind calculated what her next move would be, she’d taken me into her mouth, and I shouted out in surprise. She’d filled her mouth with ice, and she was using her tongue to swirl it all around my hot cock; I knew it was melting quickly. To feel the frigid temperature against so sensitive a part of me...it was a feeling I could never describe with mere words.

I had slammed back against the wall when she did it, gripping the towel rack and the door frame to keep my feet. I could feel her swallowing around me; I felt her hot lips in contrast with the cool atmosphere of her mouth, and my hoarse moaning was echoing off the walls around us.

When the ice had melted, she pulled me down to the floor, opening her legs to me and guiding me to her. I needed no further encouragement; I was incapable of thought and followed her lead blindly. I plunged into her depths, stopping instantly at the overwhelming heat of her after the arctic experience of her mouth. I fought to keep from bucking madly against her; I was on fire, and I could imagine the relative coolness she would have felt of having me inside her.

I pulled back enough to look into her eyes. She was struggling as well; her display in the shower had been only an appetizer. Knowing she was as excited as I was helped me to keep my head, so to speak, and I began moving slowly in and out of her, enjoying the changing features of her face, the glowing glaze in her eyes.

I no longer felt any of the residual coldness from the ice; as each thrust brought forth another outpouring of hot liquid within her, my pace picked up independently of my will, and her vocal encouragement and pleas mixed with mine as they bounced along the walls around us.

As she began to thrash beneath me, I wrapped my hands around her head, cupping it, preventing her from injuring herself on the hard floor. My hips answered her movements, as she began rocking against me, searching for just the right angle, just the right rhythm. I felt the beginning of a powerful force within me, and I mindlessly tried to articulate the overpowering surge that soon consumed me. My garbled words were lost in the rasping roughness of my voice, but she understood--she answered me in kind.

I wallowed in the euphoria that surrounded us, that fulfilled us from within. My body began those involuntary jerks and twitches that worked to make the most of the ecstasy that was heading so swiftly toward me, and I willed her to keep up with me. I so wanted to feel her orgasm before I felt mine; it made time stop, it made the rapture seem to last forever.

I heard her breath being taken away from her as she gripped me with her entire body; I felt the tension and release of her muscles as her climax washed over her. My stamina, I realized, was just a dream, and it evaporated as I felt the force of my own release streaming from within me and pushing me over the edge.

As I gasped into her ear, again and again, I felt as though I was letting go of everything. Not just letting go of the physical tension of hot sex; not merely the release of the bodily fluids of procreation. It was something more all-encompassing. I felt my fears and anxieties of the early morning drift away as I sagged on top of Olivia, resting on my quaking arms and striving to catch my breath.

How could there ever come a time when I wouldn’t need her as much as I did now? If one day I awoke to find myself in a trouble-free and ideal world, wouldn’t the loss of her by my side evoke a need in me great enough to require her presence anyway?

Looking into her eyes, which were beginning to focus on me, I was reminded of the colors I’d seen shooting from the beacon earlier at the gathering. “Olivia, have you left this house today?”

“No.”

“You didn’t follow me?”

“Of course not.”

At her puzzled frown, I began to explain what I’d witnessed that morning. We disentangled our bodies from each other, and I followed her to the brook, stripping as I went. She pushed me down to recline against the sloped incline at the side. As she lavished me with attention, smoothing her soaped hands over me, I described the beacon of light and the rainbow of colors that came from it, attacking the fleeing crowd. I marveled with her at the Dark Lord’s apparent fear of it.

“Who knew?” she said wonderingly.

“Knew what?”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at me. “You don’t know what that was, do you?”

Wondering if I should be nervous, I waited for her to tell me what it was I didn’t know.


	11. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment to forget his troubles...

Chapter 11  
Respite

8th July, continued

Thinking back to my description of this morning’s events, I felt ashamed that I didn’t know what it was that had attacked, and I impatiently waited for Olivia to enlighten me.

“Who knew what, Olivia?”

“That Voldemort was so afraid of leprechauns?”

“Leprechauns!”

“Didn’t you know?” She paused, the water in her hands trickling onto my chest as she studied me closely. “That’s how leprechauns attack. The beacon of light, the rainbows…those colors are lava-hot. Quite an entertaining sort of defense, actually.”

“I have never heard of that. And it wasn’t a defensive maneuver, by the way. It was a very aggressive display of power.”

“Well, I suppose they get a little cranky sometimes. And leprechauns are notorious for holding on to their secrets. Don’t feel bad because you didn’t know.”

“I don’t,” I lied. “And how is it that you know about them?”

“I practically grew up with leprechauns. They seemed to thrive in the town of my childhood.”

“You sent him there?”

“No. I knew nothing about it.”

“Then why…? He showed up just before the Dark Lord cursed me, you know. And, although I did present a target, I wasn’t attacked. I thought perhaps he was there to protect me.”

“Maybe it paid off that you don’t make a habit of hunting them down, huh?”

I sudden memory came to my mind. My first real encounter with Olivia, at the World Quidditch Cup. She’d caught a leprechaun, but had let him go without exacting payment. She was supposed to have demanded his pot of gold, real gold, in exchange for his freedom, but she hadn’t done so. She’d simply released him, no strings attached. Was this the same leprechaun then, come to repay what he must have considered an obligation?

And how, exactly, would that have involved me?

During the years that I had worked under Albus at Hogwarts, I had felt a bond slowly forming; a bond that was probably similar to those a son must feel toward his father, in those situations where a father actually cared for his son. I had taken comfort from that bond, but still, there were so many times I felt I was alone.

When I had to face the Dark Lord in those several meetings since his rebirth, I knew that, although Albus was with me in spirit, I was on my own.

When I had begun to see Olivia’s entry into my life as something more than a casual playful fling, I again took comfort in the lessening of that sometimes overwhelming sense of solitude. I had begun to feel as though I could face anything that happened to me during a dark revel, because she’d be there when I returned, using her own charms to erase what had gone before. Even as I had to act alone, I felt her closeness so much more so than any support Albus could have given me.

But once Olivia had come into my life, Albus had left it. If now there was a spritely leprechaun looking out for my best interests, would that mean my days with Olivia were numbered?

It didn’t bear thinking about.

There must be a way to put things back to their former status quo. I would rather have faced the Dark Lord’s punishment than to have the leprechaun acting to protect me. And on those nights when nothing appeals but to lie on cool grass and gaze at the stars above, I don’t want to wrap my arms around a leprechaun.

But Olivia claimed no knowledge of, and therefore, no control over the leprechaun in question. We couldn’t even be sure it was her former prisoner, however briefly he’d been imprisoned by her. But what other connection, no matter how thin, would I have with a leprechaun?

I was getting used to not knowing the answers to my many questions lately. It seemed that all I could do was wait to see if Olivia’s theory about that mysterious note in the locket was a harbinger of the second coming of Albus Dumbledore. I would have to find a way to communicate with Potter, and have him relay information to the Order in such a way that I could once more work with them in bringing to an end the reign of terror the Dark Lord was again casting upon our world.

And I knew, or at least I had a strong idea, of where another Horcrux might be found. It would be much less difficult to get there if I didn’t have to dodge Aurors on the way. But I didn’t trouble myself too much with this; Olivia would relay to Potter what she knew, and then we’d wait to see how the information was received. The veil of suspicion would still be over me, and would no doubt always be. But there were very few in the Order that had ever trusted me as fully as Albus did, anyway. Were he to return, as Olivia believed he would, I could only hope that he could explain to all of us why I did what I had done. I would settle for simply a pretense of acceptance, as I had in the past.

And what of Olivia herself? Would I ever understand her coming to be in my life? Would she leave me, be taken away from me, before I learned the reason she’d come here in the first place? She had claimed that she’d merely taken the teaching position Albus had offered her. Could it be that she’d been manipulated by Albus? And though I knew her to be a flesh-and-blood being, I was certain she was not of the same ilk as the rest of us. But what exactly she was, I didn’t know. The only reason I even wanted to know was because it might give me some hint as to our future.

All these thoughts and more crowded my mind, pushing sleep away from my tired body. I rolled to my side, trying not to disturb Olivia. I had been afraid that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, that she would be too concerned with me and my worries to allow her fatigue to get the better of her. It bothered me that her appetite was so poor, that she slept too lightly for her rest to do her any good.

I held my breath as she stirred beside me, but as she pressed against me, her arm coming around me, I slowly released it, relaxing into her warmth. I could feel her soft breath against my shoulder, and I pulled her hand to my lips, brushing my lips against the softness of her palm. I breathed in the faint aroma of her skin, the scent I was now so familiar with. I could feel my eyes getting heavy in the security of her presence, of the atmosphere of caring and acceptance I could feel all around me, because she was here.

I could feel the heavy lassitude of sleep overtaking me; I concentrated on the warm breath fanning against the back of my neck. She was breathing slowly and evenly, and I hoped she’d sleep through the night. I could feel myself sinking more deeply into my pillow.

I have no way of knowing how long I’d slept, but I knew I had. The subtle change in her breathing had roused me, and her hand was moving slowly down my chest, creating a warm path of awareness in me. I took in a shuddering deep breath, and felt the heat of her soft lips on my neck, just where it joined my shoulder.

I stretched my legs out toward the foot of her bed, much like a cat would stretch out upon waking from a sun-induced nap. She brought her hand to my hip, and she teased the ticklish flesh between my hip and my erection with her fingers as she nibbled my neck. I covered her hand with mine, both as an appreciative acknowledgement of her attention and to encourage her to continue moving toward my most awake feature.

I felt the delicious suction from her lips as she nosed aside my hair to allow her access to more of my neck. She’d found the hollow under my ear, and I moaned almost inaudibly at the erotic caress. Her hand gripped me, and I began to breathe more heavily as she began to stroke slowly. I grabbed the edge of the mattress, my fingers tight around the sheet, my hips moving to match the slow rhythm of her hand.

I could feel the heat of her body pressing along my back, her legs pushing against the back of mine. Her hand settled to an even cadence as she fondled me, and I groaned, my blood racing through my body, my heartbeat quickening with her movements.

I reached around, smoothing my hand over her bottom, pulling her even nearer to me, loving the feel of her firm flesh in my hand. When her soft moan sounded so near my ear, I pushed her hip until she fell away from me, and I rolled over to cover her body with mine.

Hoping to calm myself just enough to ensure that I could prolong this interruption of our sleep, I brushed my lips against hers softly, almost not touching them at all. I repeated the touch, this time using a bit more pressure, and took her bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling. I positioned one knee between her legs, pushing my tongue into her mouth as her legs clenched around mine.

I shifted my weight over her, rubbing against her core of heat, and when her legs tightened convulsively around mine, I began thrusting my tongue roughly in and out of her mouth. As her hands cupped around my head, her fingers threading through my hair, I followed the line of her jaw to the rapid pulse in her throat. In the sudden freedom of her lips, she gasped her excitement to my ears, and I felt an answering surge of lust shoot through me.

As her hands moved over my shoulders, down my back to my hips, my erection throbbed achingly, trapped between us. She groped my rear, pulling me closer to her, and I moved my other leg between hers, rubbing intimately against her wet heat. She reached between us to take me in her hand, moving her thumb over the seeping wetness of my cock, and I ground my hips into hers, groaning out my need for her.

I felt her shift her hips, pulling her legs up around mine, opening up to me. I let her guide me to her, and, taking her breasts in my hands, I kissed my way down her neck to her hard nipples. I felt her hand tighten around my shaft, stilling as I teased one nipple, biting lightly, and I worked my hips to remind her of where she’d been headed with me. She pulled at me, and I paused before her opening as she let go of me and cupped my balls.

I pushed into her, moaning. I lifted my head, arching my back as I savored the hot, liquid evidence of her excitement. As she tightened around me, I felt the throbbing pulse of my hard shaft, and as I pulled out, I could feel her closing over me, as if to impede my withdrawal.

I could feel every muscle in me straining as I pumped in and out of her. As the tide of passion surged within me, the sounds of our lust filled the air around us. I reached down and lifted one of her legs higher, giving me room to rotate my hips against hers, reaching to touch every spot inside her. I could feel instantly when I’d reached that one place, that special button inside her that caused her to alter her moves as suddenly as if a lever was switched on.

She clung to me, her entire body tightening, her hips slamming against mine. I could feel her inner heat intensify, and I felt as if I were plunging into a burning pool of lava as my hips began to piston in and out of her, heedless of my shattered will.

I moaned words of encouragement to her, words I had no doubt she understood. As I felt the last of my rational mind leaving me, I struggled to talk her into letting go, of allowing her orgasm to explode. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer, and every nerve in me was begging, calling out for her to come with me; to burn me with her heat, to convulse around me in her passion, to brand me with proof of how I could make her feel.

With a strangled gasp, she clenched her legs around my hips in a vise grip. I felt the intensity of her climax as her inner muscles squeezed tight, and I let go of the last shred of my own control, thrusting deeper than deep into her once more before the involuntary jerks and shudders of my hips took over.

Shutting my eyes against the force of my explosion, I poured myself into her, my passion so much more intensified with the sounds of her release hot in my ear. With a final shudder, I felt my body go slack as I rested on my shaking arms. I could feel the occasional wave of aftershock run through her as she lay beneath me, her breath coming out in gasps as she came down.

Drawing a deep breath, she looked up into my eyes, and that green light blazed a warmth into me that couldn’t be compared to the warmth of her affection, or the heat of her passion. It was something unique and revitalizing, all the more so because I believed with all my heart that no one saw it but me.

She pulled me closer and I kissed her tenderly, wanting to say so much to her, but knowing I lacked the words. As I pulled back to gaze once more into her eyes, I thought I could be sure that she knew what I was feeling. I moved to her side, scooping her into my arms to lie against me, her head on my chest, her hair falling over us both. She reached down to pull the quilt over us, and I could already feel myself drifting off. I knew neither of us would have trouble sleeping now.

As my mind began to wander, searching for the land of dreams, I knew I could be content to live with my questions; I knew Olivia would still be here for a while longer. The questions I had would not plague me; I felt I would have the answers soon enough. Let the world go on without me for a while longer; I would be satisfied to stay here with Olivia.


	12. Not a Speck of Light is Showing, So the Danger Must be Growing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saved by yet another magical savior?

Chapter 12  
Not a Speck of Light is Showing, So the Danger Must be Growing

1st, May

I sit here before my faithful journal, knowing I must organize my thoughts. I have decided to allow this journal to become a part of history, and since I can’t be sure how long I’ll be here, I have to force myself to keep up as much as possible. There are things happening that remind me of my mortality, and if I’m remiss about writing, who would know what’s going on? What the Ministry, the odd civil servant who still possesses his own will, knows, will be covered up, no doubt. One cannot depend on the Daily Prophet to report accurately. I plan to allow my memories to be harvested upon my death, whenever that occurs, but what happens to those memories rather depends upon who, if anyone, might be around when I take my final breath. I almost hope it’s the Dark Lord. It would be my final revenge to have him know, once and for all, that I had hated him, that I sought all these years to destroy him. Let him stew in the knowledge that he’d never figured it out.

So, I shall now write about...last spring, I believe. About the beginning of April.

To my embarrassment, Olivia had come running from the kitchen, an anxiously worried frown on her face. Still I could not stop my temper tantrum, and I had crashed out of the fireplace, stormed around her sitting room, kicking furniture and railing loudly at the weakness of Malfoy.

“That coward! That weasel! After all my efforts...all my risks!”

“Severus, please, calm down,” she begged, one hand on my arm urging me to sit. But I could not sit. I continued my agitated pacing, but summoned enough control to stop shouting. “What, exactly, has Malfoy done? I thought he was thousands of miles away with Draco and Narcissa.”

“Well, that was the plan,” I said snidely, the last of my temper rushing out with my exasperated breath. “But, in all his unfounded arrogance, in all his wisdom-which-is-something-less-than-wisdom, he decided to alter that plan.

“He’s presented himself--as well as his family--to the Dark Lord. He actually threw himself on the Dark Lord’s non-existent mercy, fully expecting to be spared because he’d come back voluntarily!”

Olivia narrowed her eyes at me, waiting. I wondered, at the time, just how well she understood that evil wizard, how much she really knew of Death Eaters. I can’t recall her ever having asked questions about what things were like in those ranks, yet it seemed she always knew what I couldn’t express.

“They haven’t been killed, have they?”

“No. That would have been too merciful. I shudder to think what their futures hold now.” The rage had gone out of me by then, and I felt a bone-crushing weariness replace it.

“Severus,” she said, touching me carefully. “You weren’t punished? Lucius didn’t tell him of your helping him hide?”

“No. It’s the reason I didn’t kill him myself.”

“I don’t believe you could have killed him, Severus.”

“Why not?”

“He’s your friend.”

“He’s never been a friend of mine,” I answered. “Not once I realized what real friendship was, at any rate.” It was true. I had aligned myself with Lucius at a very young age, so desperate to feel I belonged. I’ve had many years since then to regret it.

“He was tortured, wasn’t he?” she asked, dread in her voice. Was she even acquainted with the Malfoys? She knew Draco, but I thought only because she’d been teaching at Hogwarts.

“He was tortured beyond anything he could have imagined,” I answered. The rest, I kept to myself. Olivia didn’t need to know how Lucius had been forced to watch as Narcissa, then Draco, had been subjected to intense bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. It had effectively broken down all three.

Once I had calculated that Lucius, with his spirit so completely broken, would have had no reason to spare me, I had frantically been trying to come up with something to offer the unforgiving Dark Lord so that I wouldn’t be next on his hit list.

All this had happened months ago.

Since that time, I had finally garnered some useful information, information I was sure would save me. The nerve-wracking wait, I was sure, would be worth it. I had discovered the travel plans that would remove Potter from the sanctuary of his aunt’s home, where the Dark Lord couldn’t reach him until his next birthday.

I relayed the news to the group gathered before him, although still worried his killing mood wouldn’t be sated by the victim he’d held, suspended, over their heads. We all were, however, spared from having to do anything more than witness the murder of Charity Burbage, former teacher of anti-Pureblood beliefs at Hogwarts.

And so, I had joined my fellow Death Eaters, trying to convince them I was using my best skills to shoot Potter down. It had been close. Too many eyes were watching me as we battled in the sky with a Potter lookalike.

I had to attack.

It was a blow to my ego, as always, that those near me believed it really had been my best effort. What tripe! My Sectumsempra Curse could so easily have sliced open the imposter’s throat, if that had been my intention. Still, I feel awful that the boy would no longer have his ear. But better that than put more heartbreak into Molly Weasley’s life. There would be enough of that to come, I was sure. So many children...so many targets.

The Order had lost what little faith they had in me as soon as I’d killed Albus, and rightly so. Even I had lost faith in myself. But without their shaky support, I had never felt so alone as I participated in the hunt that night. I had, with Albus’ help, put myself in such a no-win situation. It was worse than being in the company of dementors.

The only highlight of the night was witnessing the Dark Lord chase after Potter--once we’d learned which one he was--only to be mysteriously attacked by the boy wonder. I had almost felt happy.

When we had regrouped and sat through his rantings and ravings, news came from the Ministry, which was more Death Eater-infected than not. I would like to have thought I was being rewarded for my cutting off that ear, but I know the only reason I was being appointed Headmaster was to effect the Dark Lord’s control of Hogwarts.

It would only make things even more difficult for me.

How painful it is to see Minerva every day, to see the disbelief and distrust in her eyes. She had once felt almost as trusting of me as had Albus, and there were so many times I wanted to take her aside and assure her that my loyalties remained with the Order. But this was something I couldn’t do. Not with the Carrows planted so firmly in place.

That hadn’t been necessary--not really. I knew the only reason for their being here was so they could keep an eye on me. It was confirmation that the Dark Lord no longer trusted me, and although I had suspected as much for a while now, it still kept me on edge. I dared not let anyone at all know that rather than follow his ways, I wanted him dead. Extinguished. Destroyed. Exterminated.

It killed me that I couldn’t even confide in Minerva. And I knew the Carrows; I knew they’d been part of the overall plot to control the school. But I also knew there must be others as well. And, not knowing who those others were, I had to be convincing.

Knowing Minerva’s skills in self-defense, I’d attacked aggressively, finally managing to flee before I’d have to get lethal. I had leapt through the window, blindly hoping to fall to my death. That would have ended this wretched excuse for a life once and for all. There would have been no updates to this journal, but at the time, I hadn’t considered anyone would be seeing it anyway.

As the broken glass crashed around me, I thought of Olivia. I almost howled in grief, sure I would never be with her again. I had, in that micro-second of suspended time, felt a blankness overtaking me as I waited to feel gravity pulling me unrelentingly down to smash into the unsympathetic earth.

I know now that all those thoughts had flashed through my mind at the speed of light, but it seemed an eternity that I hovered there, waiting to fall to my death. Time resumed when I felt something supporting me, lifting me away from the site of my would-be suicide. Something was carrying me, and I knew it wasn’t a broom. I could hear panting and huffing and puffing, but somehow knew it wasn’t a wizard, or a witch, who rescued me. It couldn’t have been Olivia; what was propping me up was too small.

I had felt a strong wave of...of something nameless. It was suffocating me, squeezing me, and I more or less assumed it was what one felt upon dying. But when the feeling finally passed, I found myself lying, spent, on the lawn outside of Olivia’s house in Clophill.

Cautiously hoisting myself to a sitting position, I looked around, all my senses alert. The day had been still, the sun bright, and I knew there was no one about, not even my savior. Not knowing what else to do, I entered Olivia’s house, startling her.

“Severus! I didn’t expect you here,” she said happily. As she pushed herself into my embrace, I held her close and decided not to tell her I had wanted to die mere moments ago. What would be the point of her knowing? I had no regrets, as long as I felt her arms around me.

“Olivia, something strange just happened. Were you aware, or did you have anything to do with events at Hogwarts tonight?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “What happened? And why are you home?”

Home. I loved that she considered this my home as well.

“Someone saved me from falling to my death. Other than you, there’s not a soul alive who would have regretted my passing.”

Her eyes had welled up with tears she was clearly trying to hide. “One day, Severus,” she said, her voice trembling. “One day, they will all know the truth.”

It was then that I had decided to prepare my journal in such a way that it would traverse space and obstacles to get to the right hands upon my death. It took me longer to decide whose hands those would be.

And the journal wouldn’t be enough, I realized. I could write anything I wanted to write in here; no one would believe it. I had to make sure the right memories would be available. Those who would want to, could they test to see if the memories had been altered? It would be worth refreshing my memory of the potion it would take to ensure my memories would bleed out with my last breath.

But those thoughts were hazy, already taking their place at the back of my mind. The more important thoughts were crowding for dominance, because Olivia’s hands were all over me, and it had been months since I’d last been with her. My primitive urges would not be denied.

Olivia had already relieved me of my robes, and was working diligently on the many buttons of my frock coat. Upon my reaction, she gave up any pretense at civility and patience, and simply ripped it open, and the sound of the material tearing and the buttons striking the far walls gave me permission to let loose the beast.

I pulled her down to the floor, unable to take the half-second to at least lay her back on the sofa. My pulse was zooming along, the throbbing beat loud in my own ears, and I wanted to bury myself in her heat now, right now, and I mentally thanked her for being dressed only in her dressing gown. In my current state, I could not have removed denim from her, and my attempt to tear them would most likely have caused her injury.

The fear, the near-suicide, the confusion of my seeming flight from the window...it all gathered together in my id, seeking release, relief. I had long since stopped trying so hard for control, having proven time and time again that it was impossible where Olivia was concerned. In spite of her presence in my life, I still did not understand emotions, having trained myself for so long not to feel them. So, when they did crowd my mind, I reacted. I gave up my will, allowing those emotions to control me.

But I daresay Olivia could say the same. As I frantically fought the trousers that were keeping me from her, she flipped her hand and our clothes were magically removed. Funny how I can’t, in this type of situation, even think clearly enough to remember I’m a wizard.

I groaned, feeling the heavy weight of my now-freed cock. As I shifted my leg, my erection bobbed, and the ache was so intense, so demanding of a release, that I was afraid to feel her hands upon me. Before I could voice that thought, she began to stroke me, and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and feeling every muscle tense.

“Severus? Are you alright?” I looked into her worried eyes, not knowing how to answer. I placed my hands on hers, stilling her movements, struggling to even out my breathing. She seemed to know instantly what was happening. She smiled mischievously. Uh-oh...

“Severus,” she said, a touch of condescension in her voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you come before I’m ready for you to come.”

Before I could fully understand what she had in mind, before I could voice a protest, she sat up and pushed me down to the floor, quickly straddling my hips and settling her wet heat over my throbbing, blood engorged cock. She leaned over me, pinning my arms down to the floor with her weight. Instantly, I felt a responding spasm in the part of me that my hips were trying to slide into her.

Wriggling her hips just so, she rubbed her wetness, her hot flowing liquid heat, up and down my shaft, torturing me. I really didn’t want to prove her wrong, but I was so sure my premature ejaculation was going to disappoint both of us. She must have seen something in my eyes, for she quickly removed herself from contact with me.

“Olivia...please,” I said, hating the near-whimper I heard in my voice. “Have you no idea what torment this is? Dark curses have nothing on you...”

She smiled, and I could hardly reconcile the warm glow in her eyes with her ability to torture me this way. Relenting, she lowered her body against me, bringing her lips to mine. I drank in her kiss as a drowning man drinks water, moaning against her tongue as she once again coated my tool with her juices. I kicked out in reflex, barking my shin against the coffee table, dimly satisfied to hear it shoot halfway across the room. I might very well have broken my leg doing it, but could feel no pain. All my nerve endings, apparently, were concentrated on one very specific area of my body.

She maneuvered her hips, teasing, searching, and as I felt her take me in, I tensed, gathering what residual will I had to keep from erupting right then and there. “Oh, ye of little faith,” she said in a whisper, unable to hide from me the quavering in her own voice.

She slowly--oh, gods, how slowly--took me into her, finally settling down fully upon me. I could feel how she stretched for me, how I filled her. I could feel her slight twitch around me with every beat of my pulse, and I unclenched my fists and held onto the underside of the recliner just beyond my head.

Afraid to move, afraid to try anything, so tenuous was my stamina, I whispered fervently words that went from my cock straight through my mouth, bypassing my brain completely. “Yes...oh, yes...fuck me, Olivia...save me, love me, love me...”

She remained motionless astride me, but she opened her eyes to gaze deeply into mine. I felt her muscles squeeze me, unbelievable in her strength, and my breath left my lungs in a shocked whoosh of wonder. She relaxed, then did the same thing again. And again.

As full as her tight canal was, I marvelled that she could do this. But as if to prove it was no accident, no unconscious reflex, she did it again. Over and over she milked me, and I could see that the hard work it must have been was pushing her closer to my level of ecstasy. Yes, Olivia had never been a passive lover, and as her excitement grew, I watched her eyes darken and begin to glaze over. Knowing she was as close as I was, I shifted my hips, catching her off-guard and giving both of us a boost toward our impending, cataclysmic climax.

All restraints, suddenly, were off. As I pushed upward, she pushed down, and the friction, the hot clenching of straining muscles and velvety tissue, became living powers, powers that erased the world outside this haven. With a sobbing gasp, she released my wrists, sitting back and grasping her hair in her fists.

I reached up, soothing her hands away from her hair, afraid she’d begin to gouge her face next, and pulled them down to my chest. She could rip my flesh to shreds, for all I cared. I couldn’t stand to see her hurt herself in her frenzy.

I gripped her hips, urging her to rock them this way, then that, searching for just the right angle. It was no good, it wasn’t what I needed. We were both getting so close, and I didn’t want either of us to come until it was perfect. Instinctively, I smoothed my hands up her back, pulling her down to me. She came willingly, as if relieved to follow my lead. A quick shift and I was covering her body under mine. We hadn’t missed a single thrust, our timing hadn’t been thrown off. Our bodies were working independently of our minds, but they were in tune with our hearts, our very souls.

We were clenched together so closely, I was dimly surprised we could thrust against each other, but it was right. This was what I’d been searching for. We really were the beast with two backs now, so closely were we entwined. Feeling the heat, the love, the comfort, I let myself go, let myself feel everything she brought to me, and gave back to her in spades.

I felt the first quivering twitches of her body, and right after, the jolting charges of my response. The pressure in my groin condensed to a heavy coil, and I reveled in the ache, the tingling, waiting, gasping words of encouragement and longing to her.

There! I felt it when she did, the convulsing tremors that began inside her. Letting myself go, I slammed into her again and again, my ears ringing with her shouted release, my back on fire from her nails. One final thrust...white flashes behind my eyelids...spasms seizing my entire body as I emptied into her. I had the eerie mental image of us straining against each other as seen from a bystander. We would have looked just like a couple of errant wizards who’d been struck by the Cruciatus Curse.

As my respiration approached normal, I became aware of the painful throbbing of my shin, and remembered that I should see if I’d destroyed her table. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I looked over to see that one of the table legs had splintered, but otherwise, it was none the worse for the experience. I turned back to where Olivia still lay on the floor, smiling. I quirked an eyebrow and nodded toward the table.

She sat up, reluctantly, I thought, and began to giggle when she saw the table. “Reparo,” she said, waving her hand, and as the table gathered the fractured wood about itself and returned to its rightful place before the sofa, I pulled my legs in quickly, giving it room. I could already see the bruise forming, but decided against mending it. I cherished the reminder, no matter how painful, of how I’d gotten hurt. It could very well be the first time in my life I was proud of an injury.

After struggling to stand, I pulled Olivia up to join me, and she pulled on her dressing gown. I began to put my clothes in order as well, smiling at the rent frock coat. Olivia smiled sheepishly, murmuring words of repair until all the tears were eliminated, all the buttons replaced. I tossed the coat to the sofa and, looking out the window, saw that the sky was beginning to darken; dusk was approaching. It was a gruesome reminder that my hours might be numbered. I would have to face the Dark Lord, and once open warfare was begun, I knew he’d have little use for me.

“Olivia,” I began as I pulled her to sit with me. “I’ve often wondered...”

It was time to ask and answer questions. I could not face my possible death with all these uncertainties.


	13. And Yay, Though I Walk Through the Valley...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never really the end, is it?

Chapter 13  
And Yay Though I Walk Through the Valley...

1st, May, Evening

Wearily, I had pushed myself away from the warm comfort of Olivia’s (and my) bed, where we had retired, exhausted, two hours earlier. My sleep had not been restful, and as I stood near the window, looking out at the overcast skies of approaching night, I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Olivia earlier.

It amazed me, the assumptions and conclusions I’d mistakenly made. Olivia’s appearance in my life seemed to have nothing more to do with Dumbledore than his having hired her. He’d known nothing of the relationship between us, and it explained why he had clung to the belief that I had loved Lily all these years. I had always thought the old wizard had purposely avoided openly mentioning Olivia due to some twisted notion that the two of us would help him in his denial. Perhaps it would shake his faith in me if he acknowledged that it wasn’t burning passion for Lily that made him so sure I would always protect her son.

It also saved me from having to explain that yes, I had always loved Lily, but no, the love had not been a physical or romantic love. Most of what I felt was remorse, guilt, and the loss of a close friend. I’d had nothing to remember her by, and again, I regretted that even the letter and her picture I’d found at the old Order Headquarters had to be destroyed.

I took a quick shower, then quietly returned to the bedroom. I didn’t want to wake Olivia; she was resting so peacefully. She was aware that I believed I wouldn’t be returning. If the Dark Lord didn’t see fit to kill me tonight, then Aurors might. Failing even that, it would be a cell in Azkaban for me.

I couldn’t force myself to feel anything at the knowledge. Perhaps living on the edge for so many years had finally caught up with me, now that I was so sure it would soon be over. If it weren’t for Olivia, and how I would miss her, I would only feel relief and anticipation at my miserable life approaching its possible end. I knew I was talking myself into this fatalistic attitude, so much so that I worried about feeling it would be anticlimactic if, indeed, I did manage to survive the ordeals ahead.

Intellectually, I was prepared to die. I knew Potter and his friends had found the Horcruxes. The Patronus I’d sent with the sword made sure they found what they’d needed. I knew Potter had come into the castle, and the timing of his arrival meant that he’d come to find the fragment of soul that had been entrusted to the Ravenclaw bit of jewelry. By my calculations, it meant there were only two more fragments of that deformed soul to contend with, and Potter wouldn’t get near them without a major battle.

Wondering when the fear would reacquaint itself with me, I reached into the chest of drawers, finding an empty vial and checking to make sure the stopper was well-fit. As I tucked it safely into the pocket of my coat, a movement at the window caught my eye. Startled, glancing quickly at the pillow under which I’d hidden my wand, I took two steps toward the bed. Using my Slytherin stealth and quick reflexes, I managed to capture the wand without waking Olivia. I turned back to the window, nonplussed to see a diminutive fey sprite entering, all smiles and winks.

I studied him, searching for recognizable characteristics. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him, really, at the Quidditch game that seemed to have taken place a hundred years ago, though in fact, it had been only three.

This could only be the leprechaun Olivia had captured. Who else would be entering at the window as if he had every reason to believe that not only was he welcome, but expected?

He floated friskily about one meter from the floor, glancing at the sleeping Olivia and placing a finger to his lips. I watched as he continued across the room, turning back at the door to wink again and beckon me to follow. He disappeared into the other room, and after a moment, I followed.

Keeping mute and making sure there was a distance between us, I waited until the sprite settled down on the high backrest of the recliner before taking a seat on the sofa nearby. I fully removed my hand from my wand pocket when I realized my magic would probably be no match for his. I never really knew much about leprechauns, but folklore put them as truly magical creatures, not like wizards and witches who had to learn to use wands and incantations.

I waited for him to speak. He had taken it upon himself to appear before me; he must have his reasons.

“And would ye be havin’ a spot of the whisky, then?” he asked, his joviality apparent in his voice.

Wordlessly, I went to the sideboard to pour a healthy tumbler for him. When I handed it to him, I began to doubt his capacity. How would one so small have the same tolerance as one with my build? The amount I’d given him would have made my mind a bit fuzzy, if taken too quickly. But looking into his eyes, I could see wisdom of a great many years. He would have learned his limit long before I’d been born, so it was not my place to decide his quantity.

I had second thoughts, however, as I watched him belt it down almost before he’d fully taken the tumbler from me.

“Aye, there’s the rub.” He set the tumbler down on the recently-repaired coffee table and turned to give me his full attention. “Severus Snape, I’ve been watchin’ you for a bit...” he began. “Don’t be listenin’ to what the ignorant say aboot my kind. We’re knowin’ hoo to repay a debt.”

I found my tongue at last. “Debt?” I asked stupidly. Was this amiable-looking soul intending to reward me for some imagined kindness on my part, or was he referring to vengeance? Had I offended any leprechauns lately? Ever?

“Aye, a debt! Can you not remember hoo your bonny lass turned me loose from me prison?”

“It was my ‘bonny lass’ who’d imprisoned you in the first place,” I reminded him.

He waved away my words with a flip of his tiny hand. “It doesn’t matter, me boy. It hadn’t cost me anythin’ and she were right pleasant aboot it. Classier colleens than she, I’ve seen, takin’ me friends from their oon families in such a way. Me wife sends a prayer of thanks to the gods watchin’ o’er us wee folk almost every day since, once I’d told her aboot what the colleen did for me.”

“I’d always thought you could buy your freedom with your pot of gold.”

“Malarkey,” he almost spat. “That’s the ignorance I’m tellin’ you aboot. Most of us are poor folk, and there’s no gold. So, me friends wound up in servitude...never seein’ their wee babes and lovin’ wives again. It’s a debt I don’t take lightly.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you feel the need to speak to _me_ about this,” I pointed out. “I had nothing to do with your release.”

He grinned then, winking broadly, as if we shared a secret. “Ah, now, didn’t I tell ye I been watchin’ yeh? Ye kept the lass occupied up in those stands, aye? Weren’t for you, she mighta held onto me, I’m thinkin’. She’d a had no reason for wantin’ her hands free.”

My face burned at the thought of this fey little leprechaun witnessing the first encounter between Olivia and myself. Remembering, in perfect clarity, more of our physical encounters, I covered my eyes, wondering just how closely this wicked, teasing old pervert had been ‘watchin’ o’er’ us.

“Aye, I can see where yer thoughts are takin’ ye. Allow an old broonie to live a bit. The little woman an’ me...well, we’re not bein’ as young as we once were. Did me heart good, it did, seein’ what’s between the two of ye. You’ll not be denying it, will ya?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. It had never been easy, or even possible, to discuss my personal feelings with anyone.

“It’s love I’m talkin’ aboot, me boy. The kind of love that won’t be dyin’ with death.”

I brooded for a moment, my one path of surrender suddenly growing weeds. “Are you telling me that, even after my death, I’ll still love her? That I’ll feel the pain that will come from my inability to be with her?”

“Ah, Severus,” he said, lifting his finger to his empty tumbler. I watched it filling with whisky. Glancing quickly to the sideboard, I saw the level of whisky in the bottle decreasing as his tumbler filled up. Shaking my head, I listened to his words.

“You’ll be with her, don’t you be worryin’ aboot that. Ye’d be amazed, what with yer wizardin’ ways, what we wee folk can do.”

I thought I’d seen what they can do. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one to attack the Dark Lord.”

“Aye. Ye wouldn’ta wanted him to do what he was wantin’ to do, wouldja? Fair bit of fun, that was,” he added, his hand stroking his chin in memory. “Doon’t get to do much o’that these days. Wizard-folk don’t usually bother us.”

“Thank you. And it was you that pulled me away from the window I jumped out of, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, ‘twas me pleasure. And yer knowin’ as well as I am, it wasn’t yer time for dyin’. But noo, it’s time to get serious. You don’t have much time.”

Knowing that already, nearly sure my precious few hours left alive were ticking away, I leaned forward on the sofa, wondering what more this benevolent imp thought he could do for me, or for Olivia, for that matter.

“I seen ya puttin’ the bottle in yer pocket,” he said. “And I’m knowin’ what it’s for. What plans d’ye have for those memories once yer gone?”

“I hope Potter, as well as others, see them. It may only be ego--I’d like, for once, to be appreciated for my intentions. But I’d also like to believe I want Potter to see them so he’ll understand that I’m not the monster I’d allowed him to see these past seven years. I hope some of his questions about his parents and about Albus Dumbledore might be answered.”

“Aye, that’ll do it,” he agreed. “I’ll be hangin’ aroond, makin’ sure he gets to where he needs to be at the right time, so’s he’s the one to find ‘em. It’s aboot time he has a chance to know the truth. Don’ know what else I can be after doin’ fer ye.”

He looked into my eyes, and suddenly I realized that my Legilimency skills couldn’t hold a candle to his. I could feel him reading my soul, and I’d seldom felt more exposed. But I relaxed at his smile; it emboldened me to ask him for a favor.

“An’ what’s that?” he asked, genially enough.

“Will you still be looking after Olivia, if...if I’m gone? Will you see that no harm comes to her?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “And hoo long d’ye think she’ll be here without ye? She’s not alive, ye know. Well, not like yer thinkin’. Ye won’t be alone, me boy, not in death. I’ll be waitin’ to lead ye t’the other side. Ye’ll see her there. No matter if it’ll be soon or years from noo.”

I forced myself to draw a breath, once I felt my head begin to pound for lack of oxygen. “I’d always suspected she was an angel, or something other than a witch. Why had she never told me?”

“Ye never asked, me boy!”

“May I ask a different favor, then?” I tried. “This would be for me, though, not for Olivia. Am I being too presumptuous?”

“Not a bit of it, son,” he said. “I’ve groon to like you, these last few years. Ask away. Worst is, I’d hafta be sayin’ no, but I’ll try not to.”

“Will you deliver my journal to someone? I need to make one more entry in it, something to summarize this conversation.”

“Aye, lad, ‘twould be me pleasure. And if it happens that yer not after leavin’ us, I’ll be bringin’ it right back to ye.”

“And I suppose I should take out the parts that are too personal.”

“What would be the good o’that? Sure an’ whoever gets it needs a full picture, don’t they?”

“Well, I did get a bit graphic...I don’t think I need to detail things like...the distraction at the Quidditch Tournament...or the bookroom...or...”

The leprechaun’s grin took up most of his lower face. “Well, I’m thinkin’ it all depends on who reads it, doesn’t it? Who gets yer journal, then?”

“Minerva McGonagall. I’d like her, especially, to know she can still trust her instincts. I never betrayed her in my heart.”

“Ah, then, might I suggest ye leave it all in? Give the old spinster a thrill...”

I couldn’t help but laugh at what Minerva might soon be reading. Suddenly, I was looking forward to her receiving the journal, picturing her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, then her cheeks reddening, then her hand frantically fanning her over-heated face. It would be worth haunting the castle, if only long enough to watch her read it.

I stood, glancing back to the bedroom, where Olivia still lay in blissful, restful sleep. I so wanted one more night spent with her in my arms, but if my life was to mean anything, I had to finish what started the day Mrs. Riddle’s coat hanger failed to do its job, and her twisted, demented son was allowed to be born.

Knowing I would see Olivia again soon, one way or the other, I was able to turn back to my new friend. I did something I almost never did, in all my years of existence. I reached out to shake his hand. Mine almost completely dwarfed his, but he returned the handshake with all the mien of a lord, and I knew the respect and fondness were mutual.

“I don’t know what to call you,” I said.

“Micheleen,” came the answer. “Though it can make no difference. Ye’ll only see me once more. I still belong to the world of the livin’. But someday, when it’s me time to join ye...will I be seein’ you at the guidin’ gates?”

“Count on it,” I said, knowing I spoke the truth. “We’ll both be there for you.”

And now I’m going to end this journal. I’ll hand it over to the fey little imp, walk out the door without a backward glance, and go to meet my fate. No matter how this night ends, I will face it like the man I had always known I was, because only in death will I find my life.


End file.
